Maps by Roz Leahy Editing by Alexander Saify
The rulers of the Cnivian Kingdom speak Gotic and Latin.
Those in the North the Cnivian Kingdom primarily speak Catal whilst the southern territories speak Castille. Those on the southern border have working knowledge of Arabic. Catal and Castille are mutually intelligible.
The rulers of Eastern and Western Frankia speak Istvaeonic and Latin.
Those in Eastern Frankia speak Orleanis whilst those in Western Frankia speak Gallum. Traders and travellers speak Latin or Istvaeonic to one another. Orleanis and Gallum are mutually intelligible.
In the Marches most speak Belgic - those on the coast know a little Norse and Istvaeonic. Some on the borders know enough Latin to warn away outsiders.
Belgic Wickermen are Golems made of ensorcelled branches, woven into a 15’ tall humanoid form. They are powered by the living humans trapped within them, having HD equal to these prisoners - although always fighting as a 8HD creature. They are able to borrow the voices of those trapped within them, but speak only of their instructions.
Roll 1d8 at commencement of play. After this, roll 1d6, and:
| # | Weather (West Pyorra) | Weather |
|---|---|---|
| -1 | Extremely Hot. | Very Hot. |
| 0 | Very Hot. | Hot. |
| 1 | Very Hot. | Hot. |
| 2 | Hot. | Warm. |
| 3 | Hot . | Warm. |
| 4 | Warm. | Overcast. |
| 5 | Overcast. | Overcast. |
| 6 | Light Rain. | Light Rain. |
| 7 | Heavy rain. | Heavy Rain. |
| 8+ | Storm. | Storm. |
Rain and Storms have a 10% chance of being Snow - doubled in the mountains. Consecutive results continue to be Snow. In the Cnivian Kingdom, it only snows in the mountains.
Every 12 hours, an Encounter roll should be made. Use the location, reaction and surprise to determine goals as needed - most do not wander aimlessly. Where a region is in multiple areas, randomly determine which is used.
| 1d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-5 | 2d20 Bandits. |
| 6-8 | 3d6 Soldiers travelling to nearest Settlement. |
| 9-13 | 1 Priest and 1d20 Faithful. |
| 14-16 | Merchant carriage and 2d6 Guards. |
| 17-18 | Herd of Deer, 2-in-6 stalked by 3d6 hungry Wolves. |
| 19-20 | 1d100 livestock, 1 herdsman per 20. |
| 21-24 | Conflict - roll a d20 for each side. |
| 25-30 | Corpse - roll a d20 to determine origin. |
| 31-45 | [If night and on River Hex] The Vampire from 03.27. |
| 46-50 | [If within 3 hexes of 08.28] 1d3 Cockatrices. |
| 51-65 | [If adjacent to 02.29] Lysandra. |
| 66-75 | [If adjacent to 11.28] A single Gnoll, speaking Norse. |
| 76-85 | [If adjacent to 05.32] A Basilisk. |
| 86+ | [If within 3 hexes of 13.31] At night, 1d6 Wraiths. Otherwise, 2d20 Warriors of the Deathless. |
| d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-5 | 2d20 Bandits. |
| 6-10 | 2d12 Soldiers travelling to nearest Keep or City. |
| 11-13 | 1 Priest and 1d20 Faithful. |
| 14-16 | Merchant Carriage and 2d6 guards. |
| 17-18 | Herd of deer, 2-in-6 stalked by 3d6 hungry wolves. |
| 19-20 | 1d100 heads of cattle or sheep, 1 herdsman per 20. |
| 21-24 | Conflict - roll a d20 for each side. |
| 25-30 | Corpse - roll a d20 to determine origin. |
| 31-60 | [If within 2 hexes of 15.31] 2d4 Wolf-Rider Hobgoblins. |
| 61-65 | Wyvern from Fluikkaborst. |
| 66-70 | 1d4-1 Griffons from Fluikkaborst. |
| 71+ | No Encounter. |
| 1d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-5 | 1d4*2 Ogres. |
| 6-10 | 1d10 Centaurs. |
| 11-15 | [If Adjacent to 23.28] 9 Bark-Warriors, 25 Skirmishers of Lutetia. |
| 16-20 | 1 Cockatrice. |
| 21-25 | 6d6 Goblins. |
| 26-30 | [If Night] 13 Elves (23.31) |
| 31-35 | Dens Musco (17.32) |
| 36-40 | 3d6 Feral Dogs. |
| 41-45 | Wyvern from Fluikkaborst. |
| 46-50 | 1d4-1 Griffons from Fluikkaborst. |
| 51-55 | 2d20 Lizardfolk. |
| 56-60 | Carnifex the Wolf and his pack. (33.30) |
| 61-65 | 2d6 birds preceeding 1d3 Ennts. (34.32) |
| 66+ | No Encounter. |
| 1d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-20 | 2d20 Bandits. |
| 21-30 | Wyvern. |
| 31-40 | 1d4-1 Griffons. |
| 41+ | No encounter. |
| d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-5 | 2d20 Bandits. |
| 6-10 | 2d12 Soldiers travelling to nearest Keep or City. |
| 11-13 | 1 Priest and 1d20 Faithful. |
| 14-16 | Merchant Carriage and 2d6 guards. |
| 17-18 | Herd of deer, 2-in-6 stalked by 3d6 hungry wolves. |
| 19-20 | 1d100 heads of cattle or sheep, 1 herdsman per 20. |
| 21-24 | Conflict - roll a d20 for each side. |
| 25-30 | Corpse - roll a d20 to determine origin. |
| 31-50 | [If Adjacent to 32.25] 1d20 Bandits serving Balorix. |
| 51-60 | [If adjacent to 32.28] 2d20 Lizardfolk. |
| 61-65 | Wyvern from Fluikkaborst. |
| 66-70 | 1d4-1 Griffons from Fluikkaborst. |
| 71+ | No Encounter. |
Encounters marked with a † owe allegiance to a random settlement.
| 1d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-6 | 2d20 Footmen. † |
| 7-10 | 3d6 Skeletons plus 1 Mummy. † |
| 11-13 | 1d12 Trolls. |
| 14-16 | Merchant Carriage and 2d6 guards. |
| 17-18 | Herd of deer, 2-in-6 stalked by 3d6 hungry wolves. |
| 19-20 | 1d100 heads of cattle or sheep, 1 herdsman per 20. |
| 21-24 | Conflict - roll a d20 for each side. |
| 25-30 | Corpse - roll a d20 to determine origin. |
| 31-50 | [If adjacent to 47.26 and the sea] 4d6 Merfolk with spears and shields. |
| 51-70 | [If adjacent to 51.27] 3d6 Hobgoblins in Maille with shortbows and swords. |
| 71+ | No Encounter. |
Five remain amongst the stone buildings of the Keepers, overlooking the only beach on to the island. All are older than seventy, robes worn to a low shine. All speak Latin alone - they have forgotten their mother tongues. To those able to converse, they promise to guard the boat and bury any corpses made. Otherwise, they only point to the north-east.
They tend to the graves of those who would challenge Cosso. Two hundred mounds surround their small homes. The largest stone building is kept clean and empty for those resting.
A bowl of loose stone hides Cosso from passing vessels. In form, the Juggernaut Cosso is like a huge horse of moss-clad stone, standing some 40’ high. From the segmented joints fur sprouts, and a huge red-raw tongue lolls from between teeth fit to crush ships. The mouth is set flat into a snoutless face, flat orange equine eyes glowing.
If 36+ damage is dealt to the tongue, Cosso bleeds out over 3 rounds, running into the sea, screaming and trumpeting. If 15+ damage is dealt to a joint (one at the ankles, knees and hips), that joint becomes unusable. The ankle is 7’ off the ground, the knee 20’ and the hips 40’.
The hills host an isolated population of horses. Small, compact and vicious, an evil intelligence lurks in their eyes. They take easily to riders but eagerly buck towards battle. In a fight, they will try and bite, whinnying with delight after tearing away a mouthful. Such attacks are made at +1 to hit, and deal d6 damage.
The Caberan Horse will always fail their rider at the worst time - if ever the rider is reduced to 25% or less HP, the horse will stop still or throw their rider.
Foals bred from Caberan Horses carry these traits, although almost all other horses shy away from their company. They recognise an interloper. Ridden against the people of West Pyorra, they inflict a -1 Morale penalty on their foes.
At low tides, a large stone head is revealed, the face worn away beneath a mask of barnacles. Beneath the sand, a body remains untouched by the years. Excavated, the figure is that of a warrior some 25’ tall.
Within the treacherous mountains, a narrow trail passes a cave with a wooden door. Within dwells Otaño, a mountain guide. For 50sp, he can guide up to 30 people past the keep in 11.25 - explaining that otherwise they are liable to be taxed heavily. He speaks Basque and professes no lord. He has three goats and twelve wheels of their cheese.
Atop a small cliff watching over the beach, a cairn. At night it disgorges a Vampire, stone-hard skin taut over sinews of iron. Both hands are curled into talons, and it travels across the ground on all fours like a beast. It wears a necklace of 5 wooden figures, buried yet unrotten all these years. It knows how to cast Hold Person, but only does so if threatened. Apart from this it is naked.
It slips into the river, travelling upstream and hiding from the sun before emerging and stalking a victim from amongst the villages and keep. It has long forgone power other than the fleeting domination of a predator over prey. It watches Gualta and dreams of finding a home there.
It has a 50% chance of being in its lair. If missing, it returns in 1d6 days, always travelling at night.
Within the cairn, grave-goods of a noble displaced and forgotten (Monstrous IV):
Beside the trail a collapsed cart, the wood bleached by the sun and coated in a fine layer of dust. Hidden between the floor and the axle, a small bag of powdered silver.
The women of Biar watch the mountain pass with their horn-tipped shortbows whilst their husbands tend the flocks with their shaggy-furred dogs. Any stopping may expect warning arrows, quickly followed by more accurate fire. Only those offering wine might be allowed to stay.
The village holds 68 and is hidden behind the ripples of stone that make up the mountains. All speak Basque and some Istvaeonic. They know Catal, but will not reveal this.
24 skirmishers plus 15 dogs.
Nine houses of stacked stones stand empty amongst the mountains. Only the wind is visible, and the stone holds no sign of where they have gone.
A nearby cave holds many gnawed and broken bones of human origin. Amongst this are reams of reptile skin and fragments of egg.
Miles of vineyards spread from a central point of stone buildings painted white, reflecting the sun. Large warehouses can be smelt before they are seen - huge vats of fermenting wine. Between this industry threads a population of 90. The head of each house watches their family closely - all are wary of the young people slipping away, as so many have these past years.
Ruben (2HD, Leather, Bow, Spear) is crumbling - two of his children have disappeared, and his Cristina is long buried. Only one son remains - like the others, he shows no signs of leaving.
10 footmen, 10 skirmishers.
Sheep crop the greenery clustered either side of the river. Once a month, all of Bergue tie their rafts together and force the sheep to cross, corralling them with shouts and dogs. Fish-traps swell with their catches - and so the oldest of the 89 ponder why some leave Bergue at all.
Lys (3HD, Maille, Axe, Shield) rests here a while. She is the daughter of Isa, a noble of the Cnivian Kingdom, but has no interest in court life. She seeks adventure, and has no qualms about who she signs up with. Carles (1HD, Sling), a local boy, is smitten - he would follow her anywhere.
5 footmen, 20 skirmishers.
To the north of Gualta, an alien terrain of pockmarked earth and pillars of fumes. During the day, many labour beneath the earth, still working mines established so long ago. Lead and silver is dredged from the earth which so often swallows the bodies of miners in return.
The town itself, home to 652, sits amongst its crumbled wall built so long ago. Traders and miners vie for space as Cnivian silver is traded for Arabic spices. Horses eye camels nervously and young men often compete in street races. Haughty Istvaeonic warriors move in groups, trailed by their interpreters. Nominally all are sworn to King Roderik, but in truth their loyalty rests with Odulf.
Frauja Odulf (5HD, Full Length Maille, Warhammer), nephew to Roderik and loved in place of his dead sons. He claims that his uncle as weak, his facelessness a sign of displeasure from God for his leniency to Muslim ways in the kingdom. Odulf always travels with a pack of 8 vicious hunting hounds, each named for a different saint. Despite his talk, he is terrified of Roderik, and glad that he has retired to the Fumencast.
Many churches oppress the lower buildings around them. Bishop Telo has no interest in conversions, only in shows of dedication from those already embracing Christ. At night, beneath a bronze-bull mask, he leads hidden worship of the old West Pyorran gods. They pray for liberation from the foreign rule of King Roderik and his Istvaeonic kin. The blood of bulls and rams is drunk for strength - against the day they strike. The worshippers number only a hundred, although few across the Cnivian Kingdom would pass the opportunity to act against their oppressors.
Those who have proven themselves with the blood of an Istvaeon may be Blooded in one of these rituals- a bull granting +1HD and a ram granting +1 to strike. One Blooded more times than they have Boasted must make a Warding Save to maintain control their rage if injured - attacking all in sight for the next 1d6 rounds. Those lost to the rage are transported out of the city under cover of night, hidden in Onvalliscast.
A single mosque, beside the markets, serves the traders and émigrés from South Pyorra. Umar ibn Abd al-Malik (2HD) serves as Imam. He frets after any traders, always offering to hire additional protection on their journeys back home. Recently he has noticed the absence of a young arrival, Jattab - he is willing to pay 250sp to any who discover his fate. His friends know only he bought a camel and set off to the southeast.
50 footmen, 75 armoured footmen, 45 horsemen, 75 skirmishers.
Three Cockatrices lair here, moving low and slow through the night, using the many rough ridges to stay hidden. Their scales of iron have been polished by the sand and the rock, causing hard white reflections. Much of this area is a desolation, populated only with petrified animals and insects. Amongst them, the occasional defaced statue with a human outline.
Within the hollow a terrible creature is rendered in stone - vomiting itself forth, all grabbing limbs and tongues and eyes still weeping. Once it was a demon.
Pillars cast broken shadows across an immense circle of stone steps. They surround a patch of sand still stained and murky, now hosting slabs of fallen stone. Grasses grow in the gaps between the seats. At either end of this depressed ring, still-standing entrances lead into the subterranean complex beneath the ruins. The eastern leads to room 36, whilst the western to room 1.
Beneath the earth, the walls are of once-smooth stone worn by time and the passage of many hands. Bloodstains have turned pitch-black on the hungry stone. It is dry, and the sound of hungry animals echoes throughout. Compasses do not function here, the needles lurching drunkenly.
Where not mentioned, doors are of stone on cunningly-hidden iron hinges, squealing when opened 3-in-6 times.
Every Turn, or if a loud sound is made, roll a d6 if any of the 4 Minotaurs survive. Per round of combat, roll another encounter.
| d6 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-4 | No Encounter. |
| 5 | A Minotaur, nearby, listening - any sounds above a quiet whisper trigger another encounter roll. |
| 6 | A Minotaur. |
1
Wide stairs, the walls scratched heavily, lead to a small chamber. Detritus from above has gathered in the corners, flanking a heavy door of lead. Upon it is a bas-relief. Above the surface, a hill is studded with crucified figures. They watch others fight in an arena, surrounded by jeering crowds. Beneath the surface, four bulls stalk through a maze, hunting solitary figures, unarmed and crawling.
The door is immensely heavy, requiring a combined strength of 40 and a Turn to heave open - by lifting directly upwards. A combined strength of 60 could open it much faster, although there is only room for 4 to assist in the lifting.
If the door is destroyed, the Minotaurs will roam free, terrorizing all of the Cnivian Kingdom.
2
The walls of this chamber are studded with heavily rusted and corroded weapons. Many have snapped or crumbled, and instead rest upon the floor. There are bare footprints in the red rust dust left behind. They go in all directions, many overlapped by subtle variations over and over.
3
Strips of treated leather hang from the ceiling, time only just beginning to erode them. Each is studded with many small bells of silver - moving through the room without lying flat is sure to cause noise. There are 250 straps, each with 50 bells. Each strap is worth 25sp.
4
A mosaics is covered in recently dried blood. A beatific Christ representation looks down at several torn apart bodies which litter the room, their mail rent and swords bent. All are left in a heap, showing signs of deep gouging, broken bones and massive blunt strikes to the shoulders, head and arms. Four coinpurses can be found amongst the gore, totalling to 198sp.
5
This chamber is filled nearly entirely with a pool of stagnant, dark-green water, leaving only a small 3’ ledge to the north and south. Disturbed, the water gives off a powerful sulphurous odour which clings to any swimmers. Whilst reeking, add +1 to all Encounter rolls.
6
The northern wall bears a large Christian altar, free of blood or grime. The southern wall is a heap of smashed wood and pottery, the faces of warrior gods and demons peering through the carnage.
7
The walls are set with mosaics of wailing faces, each huge and with real terror in their eyes. The remains of an old fire within a firepit are in the centre of the room. Lighting a fire here causes an encounter roll but also reveals an illusory wall to the east - the smoke visibly passing through the wall.
8
The undelivered wealth promised to those dying for the entertainment of their captors glimmers in the darkness. Above the hoard, a mosaic in Latin reads “CHOOSE ONE AND GO FREE”. The hoard contains (Monstrous IV):
9
This passage looks to extend out into the darkness, the walls of polished stone with a near mirror-finish. The northern extent is an illusion - any walking to the edge are teleported, seamlessly, to the eastern edge of 15, facing west. There is no discernible sense of motion.
Two paces shy of the teleportation boundary, an illusory wall can be passed through into 8.
10
The floor of this chamber is filled with rows of 2" spikes of iron, each 1/2" apart from its neighbours. They are sharp enough to punch through armour - without mitigation, each step causes 1d6 damage. The Minotaurs walk across the spikes without issue.
11
In a free-standing frame is a bronze gong with a striking hammer, the wood hardened and unrotten. On the walls are dried plaques of clay with names scratched into them. The floor is bloodstained, and between the clay plaques are deep gouges.
Striking the gong always summons all 4 Minotaurs, each arriving in 1d20 Rounds.
12
From the walls hang rusted chains of iron, set to the walls with huge bolts burrowed into the stone. An plinth of stone sits on the eastern edge of the room, decaying red fabric still draped over it. Upon that sits a bull’s head rendered in clay, the neck wide enough to permit wearing it. Once donned, it cannot be removed nor broken.
This is but one of the paths a man may walk to leave mortality behind.
13
Stone shelves are burdened with long-ruined torches, the sticky resin set into hard crystalline glue binding scores of them together. Hidden amongst them, on the western shelf, a small bottle filled with a nearly-transparent liquid, a note in vellum tied to the neck. The note, written in Latin, reads “Tomas, you must hide from them - rub this upon yourself and wait near an entrance - flee when the doors are open. I will wait for you - your Julia.” The bottle contains 10 applications of Inverse Varnish (&T).
14
The walls show flecks of pale-yellow paint and long-empty sconces where torches have left streaks of black. In the southwestern corner, a statue of a motherly figure, stands with its arms open for an embrace. Carved into the forehead is “COWARD” in Latin.
15
This passage looks to extend out into the darkness, the walls of polished stone with a near mirror-finish. The eastern extent is an illusion - any walking to the edge are teleported, seamlessly, to the northern edge of 9, facing south. There is no discernible sense of motion.
16
To the north and south sit large dogs of stone, carved larger-than-life. There are 10 in total. Inspection reveals they are hollow, and have a hatch in their backs, the hinges hidden within the statue. Feeling the hinge reveals some mechanism with a spring and several cogs. Climbing into the statue requires placing arms into the limbs of the hound. Once fully within the statue, the mechanism activates, closing the hatch. It is impossible to escape from within. Two of the Northern dogs have bones within their hollow limbs, and a faint stink of putrefaction.
17
A stone bed sits in the centre of this room, the walls expertly carved to resemble the taut fabric of a tent.
18
The upper reaches of this 15’ tall chamber are filled with galleries with stone seats. The ceiling is curved and smooth, amplifying sound. Upon the floor, beneath the dust and detritus, a mosaic of a bull-headed figure tearing the entrails from a victim. Investigated, all of the entrails seem to point in a single direction. Following this leads to a point in the wall - a firm strike against the wall breaking down plaster and brickwork to reveal an entrance to 19.
Double encounter rolls in this chamber.
19
The stone of this chamber is much rougher than elsewhere. A chest of lead, moulded with swirling, heaving patterns, sits alone. It contains the Nest-of-Snakes (&T). Stored in this chest, the Constitution damaging effect does not occur.
20
A pit, leaving a narrow walkway around it, fills this room. At the base coil hundreds of narrow white snakes. Deformities are common amongst them, but their venom remains. Any falling into the pit takes 1d6 damage a round, and must make a Physique Save or begin dying from poison over 1d20 rounds. Each subsequent failure halves time remaining. At the bottom of the pit, old bones form a substrate.
21
Two hooks upon the southern wall each have a rusted iron key upon them. The eastern wall has two cell doors, each corresponding to one of the keys. These doors are made of bars, and the hinges hideously rusted - opening makes a huge amount of noise, triggering an encounter roll.
22
This cell contains scattered silver coins. They bear hands clasped in prayer on one side, and on the other a human face marked “DIOCTEL” in Latin script.
23
This cell contains a large glass pitcher of clear fluid, with golden coins resting at the bottom. The fluid is potent acid - any dipping their hand in suffers 1d6 damage and must make a Dodging Save to save their hand. The acid has no effect on stone or metal.
24
This large triangular chamber has a sloped floor - it rises upwards from each corner, forming a point at the centre of the room. The angle is 25°, making moving at any speed here difficult - those falling tumbling to one of the corners of the room.
25
A well, bored into the stone directly. There is no bucket nor water nor rope. In total darkness, a dim glow can be seen far, far below.
26
Dust forms scads and clouds on the floor here - caught on dried, crusted fluid. Rehydrated, it is exceptionally slippery and makes movement here nearly impossible.
27
Only a large carven demon face, grinning, set into the north wall directly. The eyes twinkle maliciously - within each is a Demonface Coin (&T).
The coin in the left eye depicts a horned lizard. Invoked, the demon manifests as a bipedal lizard wearing strange alien armour and carrying a huge number of weapons. If fed precious stones, it can teach physically uncomfortable yet effective techniques of combat. For every 1500sp of gems sacrificed, all attending the lesson gain +1 to hit.
The coin in the right eye depicts a molten human face. Invoked, the demon manifests as a monk, their face liquid and forever falling on the floor, the demon scooping the fluid back up. Promised children, it can assume the form of any other perfectly. As long as the original is kept alive, the demon knows whatever they need in order to complete the deception. The price is one child a week.
28
In a free-standing frame is a bronze gong with a striking hammer, the wood hardened and unrotten. On the walls are dried plaques of clay with names scratched into them. The floor is bloodstained, and between the clay plaques are deep gouges.
Striking the gong always summons all 4 Minotaurs, each arriving in 1d20 Rounds.
29
A jungle of iron rods, from ceiling to floor, massively impedes movement through the room, requiring backpacks and other worn equipment to be removed and threaded through. Bones are scattered on the floor, clearly snapped and broken.
30
A long chain descends from the ceiling, gathered in coils upon the floor. At the end of it, a sword of bronze. Mosaics on the walls depict young men killing themselves with such a blade.
31
Sitting around the edges of the room are 4 large iron wolf statues, each with comically oversized heads, jaws open wide. Their teeth are still sharp. Within each mouth are piles of figures in all manner of materials.
The mouths are set to snap shut if the weight within the mouth is reduced. Any with a hand within must make a Dodging Save or take 1d6+2 damage as they lose the hand. Such triggered jaws remain shut for 24 hours.
32
A highly detailed mosaic depicts many figures gathered around a single, downcast figure. They all have hands raised, some thumbs up, others thumbs down. Soldiers watch and guard an exit.
33
Empty - the stone unmarked, the floor smooth and uninterrupted.
34
From the walls jut broken spears, a smashed pressure plate upon the floor.
35
This chamber is a small maze of waist-high walls, mostly requiring traversal from north-south several times if not vaulted over. Hidden amongst these walls is Sancho (1HD, Sword), terrified out of his mind. He only wishes to return home to Coin.
36
As 1, although there are four rats who live in the walls here. They are surprisingly friendly, and will happily eat from the hand. With enough food, they could be adopted as pets.
Amidst the sun-beaten landscape a single oak stands, gnarled and ancient. The soil around the roots contains bones of animals and humans alike - burying a new sacrifice there would awaken the Ennt. The Ennt will follow the instructions of the supplicant - one day for every HD (doubled for Humans) of the sacrifice. It has no name, and remembers little of the comings and goings of humans.
As the hills give way to dunes before the beach, a single Medusa roams. She is still wrapped in her robe of office, dyed red and purple with a veil to cover her terrible visage. Much is gone from her mind - but she remembers losing something important. If only it could be found. In a childish voice, speaking Latin, she mumbles about a lost item, a failed duty, an empty hole in her head.
Under cover of night she drags any petrified victims to the sea and smashes them to pieces.
If her badge of office is returned, much is restored. Those who returned it are offered one opportunity to serve as her enforcers - those refusing she attempts to petrify. Haughty and cruel, she still takes counsel from her subordinates.
With her initial recruits, she will attempt to conquer all of the Cnivian Kingdom and eventually Pyorra. Villages are recruited into war-camps, families held as hostage as required. She will inspire her troops with fear and lead armies from the front, petrifying and wielding her sorcerous power.
Once her mind is restored, she has knowledge of the following spells - gathering their material components is a matter of high priority.
Animate Dead, Anti-Magic Shield, Bless, Charm Monster, Cloudkill, Colour Spray, Comprehend Languages, Cure Serious Wounds, Dispel Magic, Fear, Fly, Fog Wall, Hold Person, Sleep, Stone to Flesh, Web.
The hills of Machacón bustle with industry. All 83 bend their backs to provide food and service for Fumencast, casting a long shadow across the village. All grow up hoping to be selected for service to their faceless king.
Simone (2HD, Sling) longs for a return to Fumencast. His toils there are etched upon his skin and his dreams. He dimly remembers the face of King Roderik, and would describe it to him if carried there. For such he would be executed.
10 footmen, 15 skirmishers
Atop a rock overlooking the river Pyr perches Fumencast - a central keep wrapped in a curtain wall, a spire of natural stone forming an off-centre tower. From every surface sprout the banners of King Roderik - a beetle lifting the sun.
The curtain wall is patrolled night and day, although they are far from the border - many of the soldiers drink and gamble instead. Visitors are permitted, although they are expected to relinquish their weapons. The court of King Roderik is open to all.
The court is held within the central keep. The great hall is a place of darkness - King Roderik (4HD, Scale Armour (as Heavy) , Two-Handed Sword) does not permit light. Servants step carefully with a peculiar shuffle, testing the darkness before them with a single foot. Faceless, the king cannot speak - but writes Latin and Arabic quickly and efficiently, the notes handed out by silent staff.
His first question is always “Have you seen a dog with the face of a man?” - and if so, he demands to know where, promising a fiefdom if it is captured and delivered to him. If the dog dies, the face dies too. He also writes of a bounty of 1000sp for any magic user brought to him.
Beyond the great hall, the keep houses the many advisors and counsels who work to manage the Cnivian Kingdom. Amongst them is a Muslim mystic, Arif (2HD, Staff). He works with Sergi (1HD), a Christian monk, to cure the facelessness of Roderik. They have made no progress for years, but enjoy the company of one another.
Lutfullah (1HD), an emissary and diplomat from the Caliphate, has dwelt in this castle for years. His communications home are few - the Cnivians have no interest in war, and the neutral zone between them has been maintained. The Caliphate focuses on internal affairs, the expansion to the sea held off for now - until some weakness leaves the Cnivian Kingdom vulnerable. He is extremely well travelled and trained, and extremely bored - happy to translate any documents written in modern tongues. His son, Jahid (3HD, Maille, Two-Handed Axe) hungers for adventure - any taking him on as a hireling are warned by Lutfullah that any harm befalling him will be repaid a thousand times.
Within the hollowed out stone tower is Queen Theodegotha, still in mourning for their dead sons despite the years. She stays alive to see her husband dead - for sending their children chasing after his face. Per day spent staying in the keep, there is a 1-in-12 chance a servant slips a note to a visitor requesting they meet with the Queen. She wise enough to carefully ascertain the nature of any guests before offering all the wealth in the keep for the death of Roderik. To those unsuitable she simply complains of a lack of company. She is able to give 2500sp in jewels, rings and necklaces immediately, but all the rest will be up to the killers to gather. Upon learning of the death of Roderik, she flings herself from a window at the top of the natural stone tower, finding a resting place amongst the stone teeth of the craggy hills foreign to her til the end.
100 armoured footmen, 20 skirmishers, 20 horsemen.
A recent grave, wildflowers already growing. No cross marks it. Beneath the surface, a witch’s body refuses to submit to rot. There are no tracks to or from the grave.
A keep slowly crumbles, surrounded by cast-off sheddings of stone. There are passages within none of the 90 soldiers dare explore, most billeting in the damaged great hall. Of this band, only five are Istvaeonic - the rest are indigenous to West Pyorra.
Frauja Ulphilas (3HD, Maille, Shield, Sword, Throwing Axe) and his four Companions (2HD, Maille, Shield, Sword, Javelin) have singled out the cause of discontent in the keep - Pau. He whispered of driving out the invaders and the reclamation of the Kingdom of Catal, and found many ears happy to home such thoughts. Ruben, another soldier, overheard this and told Ulphilas.
The soldiery are unhappy with the capture of their friend - to any who seem sympathetic, they promise 250sp and a secret sign of friendship to any able to spring Pau. He is held in a wine cellar, five hunting hounds chained to the trapdoor allowing entrance. He has no light, and audibly moans for a candle. The soldiers will look the other way during such an escape attempt. Pau, if saved, will join the party as an experienced mountaineer, allowing overland travel at normal rates. He will never work with those happily in the employ of the Istvaeons.
Some small band of the soldiers, drunk and vicious, offer an additional 500sp in stolen gold idols for the death of Ruben. The rest do not know of this, and advise against it. If Ruben is killed, Ulphilas will not rest until the slayers are dead. He does nothing to hide his love for the boy.
50 footmen, 5 armoured footmen, 35 skirmishers.
A small tributary is choked with huge logs and branches, each seemingly torn from a live tree. They act as a natural dam, creating swamp-like conditions. Amongst this bog nests Garsa de Sang, a 20’ tall heron, beak stained red with gore. Those wearing metallic armour are sure to wake her from long avian dreams. The soft mud causes a -3 penalty on all Dodge saves.
The first story of Garsa de Sang is that she plucked out the eye of a sorcerer, for which her beak was stained ever-red - or so the story goes.
The second story of Garsa de Sang is that she eats only royalty, merely crushing and spitting out commoners - or so the story goes.
The third story of Garsa de Sang is that she awaits a mate that she may finally lay eggs and die - or so the story goes.
HD 9 / AC as Leather / Damage 1d6+3 / May forgo all attacks to snatch up a single individual who must make a Dodge save. Such victims take 1d6 damage per round automatically, and are likely to be dropped from a great height.
Garsa de Sang squats upon a nest containing 7 unfertilised eggs the size of human heads. Eaten raw, each imparts the knowledge to cast 1d6 random spells, revealed in dreams of ancient texts in tongues unknown to the dream yet decipherable in dream. To a magical practitioner, each egg is worth 2000sp.
The 21 of Coin are outnumbered by their cattle 5:1. Heaving herds move across the landscape, leaving only bare earth. All are able to ride proficiently.
Gomez (3HD, Javelin, Battleaxe) leads the village - related to most and paying the rest their wages. Four of the youths are locked inside a barn - punishment for losing Sancho. Gomez offers 20 cows for the return of his cousin.
In the cool darkness of one of their domed homes waits Lupaa (1HD), hands marked with sigils. Even Gomez will heed her counsel. She knows how to talk to the Ennt to the north, as well as many Wards. For those willing to forgo the cattle she can teach such knowledge. She knows of Horse blood, Horse skulls, and a chant of old West Pyorran gods which must be sung.
15 unarmoured horsemen (HD1, Shield, Javelins, Axes)
14 Gnolls make a dry camp at the foot of the mountains. Many wear the rags of displaced peasantry, although amongst them are 3 Arabic archers (+2 to hit with their shortbows) and 2 Istavones in Maille. They are lead by a hulking figure (5HD) in bluish-green armour of molten aspect (as Heavy+Shield). Beneath the armour some form of body stocking of black mesh covers all skin. They carry a stone glaive, the blade set with patterns of fire and coiling vegetation. On their hip is a curved implement of gold. Held and flicked with the wrist, it discharges a wide gout of flames dealing 3d6 damage to all unable to make a Dodge save. This fan of flame reaches out 30’ in a 120° cone.
Beneath their armour and dog-mask is near liquid - a soup of undifferentiated flesh-stuff which pours and slops, dragging more of itself as it falls.
None speak bar one of the peasants - he explains, in Norse, they need passage to Noos for unfinished business. It is not phrased as a request. The leader is happy to employ violence if needed.
They carry no wealth. The armour may used by any, the plates subtly tightening to the wearer. The glaive imparts -2 to hit, but deals 1d6+2 damage.
A small cave-home in the mountains, a single cairn outside it. Within dwells Otsanda (1HD), elderly and covered in tattoos of dots and swirls. She tends to the grave of her husband and sings Basque songs. She is happy to speak Latin to guests. To those telling exploits of the sea she offers to tattoo them with Whale-blood if it can be brought to her. She claims it is a powerful Ward. She is no friend to those serving King Roderick.
Beneath a spawning pool of crabs lies a chest of lead, betrayed only by the unusual convexity of the rock pool bottom. Within is a fasces, the blade of mirror-shined bronze. It is worth 250sp.
Amongst the broken, rocky terrain a natural cave of bright red stone, visible only from directly above. The scant earth above it is crowned with a riot of colourful flowers and thicky, leafy greens far surpassing the landscape around it. Within dwells a Subtle Spirit, able only to speak in echoes from with the cave. Enters the service of one willing to put out an eye for them to live in the socket. It demands to see one fine artwork a week or it allows itself to die.
Between the hills, upon the rarely-flooded flatlands, sits the crumbling edifice of Onvalliscast. Built square of local stone by local hands for foreign invaders ousted and replaced thrice. The soldiers posted here find silver shekels reading ‘CARTHAG’ mixed with denarii stamped with wolves and generals faces. At night, the sound of braying emerges from the cells down below. The soldiers scour the hills for game and berries.
Lugo (3HD, Maille, Javelin, Poleaxe) is a rare Castile given command of troops - none of whom claim Istvaeonic as their birthright. He allows none to stay the night in the keep lest they hear the sounds from the cells. His family is held hostage by Telo - in return for their safety, he stores those succumbing to rage as a result of the blood-rites in Gualta. Many of the troops are sympathetic to the cause, and watch Lugo carefully - he meets no-one without his ‘honour guard’ present. If able to secure a moment alone with trustworthy visitors, he tries to pass them a note for King Roderik detailing what he knows of the conspiracy.
In the cells, beneath the main keep, the Blooded are stored, waiting to be unleashed when the uprising begins. They are fed by the soldiers carefully, gobbets of meat shoved through bars forged so long ago. There are 97 - the keep nearly at capacity.
30 unarmoured footmen, 30 armoured footmen, 30 skirmishers, 10 horsemen.
A hidden camp of an Istvaeonic tent and half-dead fire is set as a lure. From a craggy bluff, Badis (2HD, Leather, Bow, Spear, Sword) and his camel, watch to see who comes to investigate. He has been observing Onvalliscast, and wishes to know what is being shipped in at night. He is willing to pay 250sp in Norse coins for this information, approaching any investigating the camp as if a fellow wanderer. He sleeps during midday in a small cave nearby, dreaming of nights spent fighting in the desert against his new lieges. He will not address this bitterness awake. He speaks Arabic, Castille and Tamazight.
If the plot of Telo is revealed to him, he rides hard to Cordoba. The Wali will send offers of monetary support to Telo in his bid for freedom. Emboldened by this war-purse, rebellion will spark in 22 months. Regardless of the victor, the soldiers of the Caliphate arrive a month later to conquer the Cnivian Kingdom.
A village of immaculate stone houses hosts 23 Lizardmen, 9 of whom are human in all regards. They are generous and welcoming - eager for visitors to stay the night. Those slumbering are murdered and eaten. The village has no agriculture nor animals - most spend their time sunbathing. Those who do not pass as human hide for from visitors in the hills. They could be parlayed with - hostages held for humans brought to them in lieu.
Buried in a dry well, their wealth, carried down from the mountains (Monstrous II):
From afar, the populace of the village seem to gather in a loose semicircle. On the approach, none move - perfect statues in visions of fear are sculpted fleeing some central horror. Tracks in the earth indicate many heavy-set lizards the size of a pony, leading away to the south. Followed, they would lead to 05.32.
Hidden in the houses are the brothers Unwen (2HD, Leather, Bow, Dagger) and Wallia (3HD, Leather, Bow, Sword). Istvaeon thieves, they rifle through the leavings of the village. The pickings are slim, and the first tangs of regret play upon Unwen - the death of a village for so little return. Wallia plans their next target - baiting the basilisk to Relojcast.
Both have a bounty of 250sp on their heads.
12 soldiers from the Caliphate, clothes rent and stained with earth, make an inefficient camp as if unpracticed. Six are dressed as mounted archers with leather and shortbow, the rest in scale armour with maces and shields. They have no mounts. All can answer in any tongue.
A sort distance away, 12 naked bodies have been buried in the hard earth - the originals of the copies now making camp. All 12 are Doppelgangers, planning to ride south to Cordoba and infiltrate the court of the Wali. They have no employer, only malice and boredom. If they find a more interesting group, they will imitate them and work to ruin their name.
A fort of wood guards the border of the Cnivian Kingdom, looking out over the no-man’s-land enforced as part of the peace with the Caliphate. The fort grows week on week, walls spreading like wings across the landscape.
Attached to the fort is a monastery, still under construction. The monks train in the medical arts and provide moral instruction to the soldiers. They are lead by Abbot Biel (1HD), fiery despite his occupation. He speaks often of holy duty, holy wars and the need for strength. The other monks do not care for him - a small band of the youngest plot to oust him, but have no mechanism to do so. They would never resort to murder.
Evoric (3HD, Maille, Sword, Battleaxe, Javelin) commands the fort, and often butts heads with the abbot - he has little faith in gods Christian or otherwise. He saw the sons of Roderik cut down by the beast that stole the king’s face, and would do anything for penance. Those serving the king directly are given all aid possible.
30 footmen, 40 armoured footmen, 30 skirmishers, 20 horsemen.
Rising to the surface, a swollen wood coffin. Within is a skeleton, finery ruined, holding a ring of 10 ornate keys, left pristine by time.
A stele, rigid-straight, is set upon a low hill here. It is made of dull metal, seemingly impervious to harm. Upon it is a rich carving depicting a figure sleeping beneath the stele. In their dream, they can see the stele at the end of a huge valley, coiling with a huge monstrous serpent, a single head with a dozen bodies. The figure battles through the valley, and touches the stele. Finally, the figure reaches out a hand in a gesture, and many others fall asleep before them.
Those falling asleep beneath this stele have the same dream. The first able to cross the valley and touch the stele awakens, able to cast Sleep once per day. Those killed by the serpent in the valley never awaken.
Dream Serpent 6*HD / AC as Maille/ Damage 1d6+1. A roll of 1 indicates constriction in one of the many tails - those so caught taking 1d6 damage automatically per round.
*Supernatural HP
A crystal-clear pool, the bottom of smoothed stone, stands alone in the wilderness. Beside it, a skeleton, sun-bleached. The water lives - a Water Elemental, playful and cruel. To one able to remove it from the basin, it serves wordlessly - but it tries to drown any taking up the task. These rules are not made clear.
Six brown-red wolves watch the mountains closely, ears angled. They accompany any travelling in that direction, acting as unruly dogs nipping at the heels of horses. They join in any fights, aiding those working against The Deathless. If the group deviates, the wolves leave and do not rejoin.
A single path allows entry into the peaks. This path is marked with air-dried corpses, flesh untouched by beak or claw. In the deeps of the mountains, the path terminates - a wide flat clearing before a set of double doors. Beside the doors, a stable of fifteen placid horses, moving as if afraid to awaken a dreamer. If stolen, the horses attempt to trample the thieves to death in the night.
Either side of the door are thin arrow-slits - these are watched. If any are seen approaching the keep, the alert is raised internally - use the Alerted room descriptions where provided. If there are less than 20 invaders, those behind the arrow slits hold fire until the main body has entered through the doors, targeting mounts. If there are more, they immediately open fire whilst those inside work to bar the doors. Return fire at those inside only strikes true on an unmodified roll of 20 - see G24 and G12 for the inhabitants.
The huge double doors are of hewn trunks reinforced with bands of iron. Upon the iron is moulded a repeated mask motif, placid and emotionless. If barricaded, a battering ram is required to gain access - the Deathless sure to interfere with his sorcery before a breach is made.
There is another, secret path - accessible only from 13.30, detailed on a single map and impossible to find without it. This route leads to D42. Those gaining access to the Keep in this manner may still Alert the inhabitants if any fight goes on for more than 4 rounds, foes are able to flee or if loud sounds are made.
Any bearing the seal of the Deathless, or accompanied by his servants, are allowed entry, received by the Deathless (U19) in G4 for rewards and orders. Similarly, those claiming they look for work are ushered in - ranks of warriors and Painted Men standing guard.
The Deathless has much work for willing servants - these are revealed one at a time, in the order listed. Information in italics is not given.
Those swearing fealty have the Black Wheel tattooed upon their hand and instead learn 1 random spell for each mission completed. Those failing any mission and returning are killed.
Much of the keep is manned by 1+1HD warriors - mostly wearing maille and wielding swords and shields. They all at least half-speak Istvaeonic, although few hail from the same home - all the tongues of the land are spoken. All bear a black wheel tattoo on their left hand.
In the Dungeons are the Bone-Painted Men - glowing white with their chalk-paint and scrawled with charcoal glyphs. They have 1HD, Supernatural HP and wield battle-axes and javelins. They always attempt to strip weapons when they have a numerical advantage, and never flee.
If the alarm is not raised, use the following encounter chart. If Alerted, there are no encounters for 30 minutes as all stream to G4. After this, all encounters are with patrols of d6 Warriors, d6 Painted Men and either a Wraith (80%), Kenver (10%) or Leonid (10%)
Per Turn, or loud sound, roll d100:
| d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-10 | d4 Warriors. |
| 11-20 | d4 Painted Men. |
| 21-22 | 1 Wraith. |
| 23-24 | Kenver and d4 Painted Men. |
| 25-26 | Leonid and d4 Painted Men. |
| 27-27 | Revna and d4 Warriors. |
| 28+ | No Encounter. |
The interior is lit with slow-burning torches which give off little smoke. Rooms are of stone carved from the living mountain and smoothed.
1
A narrow chamber of worked stone. The northern and southern walls have arrow-slits, and to the east a portcullis blocks entry - a wheel-and-chain system sits within G2, 8ft into the room. A combined Strength of 40 could lift the portcullis.
Alerted: Arrowfire pours in from the arrowslits to the north and south - any approaching these are jabbed with narrow spears.
2
A pair of wheels, chains leading up to the ceiling, control the portcullises - both may be raised or lowered independently.
Alerted: A single Painted Man lurks in the northwestern corner, bearing a two-handed axe. He attempts to chop any items stuck through the portcullis. Arrowslits allow those in G12 and G24 to continue bowfire and spear attacks.
3
Wooden benches flank the northern wall, heavy with felt cushions. Tastefully hidden beneath the legs are manacles with iron chains, set into the walls. The eastern doors are imposing, expertly carved with festival scenes, all the revelers replaced with skeletons.
To the south, a heavy door with three bolts across it. An animal smell seeps from the door.
Alerted: The eastern door is barricaded from within, requiring 4 turns to destroy the door with axes or similar to allow access. This barricading only occurs if 2 looks likely to be breached.
4
This hall is lit with two low-hanging candelabra, heavy with candles and made of gold - each worth 400sp. At the eastern end is a throne of polished granite, hard-edged, unsullied with cushion or fur. It sits atop carved stone steps, heavy with offerings and gifts.
Five tapestries filled with occult symbols and excruciating tortures hang from the walls, each weighed down with a shrunken head, their beard-hairs woven into the fabrics. Two tapestries sit on the northern and southern walls, whilst the last is on the eastern, behind the throne. The wall behind the eastern tapestry is illusory, and can be passed through.
The offerings upon the steps:
Alerted: Many of the forces of the Keep gather here, manning the barricade and forming ranks. 20 Warriors, led by Revna, form the back ranks, orders being shouted. 34 Painted Men, fanatical and grim, form the initial lines behind the barricade. Lurking in the tapestries are the seven Wraiths, waiting to strike. Behind the battle-lines, Kenver and Leonid prepare their foul magics. Unknown to all, the Deathless lurks behind the throne, coated with the Inverse Varnish (&T).
5
The stone is worked roughly here. A pile of human bones mixes with a chisel and a pick. Cut directly into the floor, a shaft containing iron rungs leading downwards to D33.
6
Wooden cots and sheepskins fill this chamber, the ambient smell of sleeping humanity. During the day, 8 men, unarmoured, rest here, sat on their cots and drinking. During the night, 24 rest, dreams all featuring a lurking blackness beyond the threshold. Each of the 38 cots has a chest - those sleeping store their Mail armour here, their swords and shields resting instead upon the walls.
Alerted: None remain here, leaving all the cots empty.
7
A half-dug chamber. During the day, 4 men toil with picks and barrows - at night, the tools lay silent.
Alerted: None remain here.
8
This is the sleeping chamber of Revna, captain of the troops. A tattered banner of a bear in the Norse style rests on the wall, as do three engraved swords bearing a similar crest, their wielders dead by betrayal. Each is worth 300sp.
Revna (4HD, Oathchain (&T), Shield, Battle-Axe, Sword) spends much of her time here when not interceding with the troops. Beneath a snarling boar-helm, she wears a circlet made by the Deathless with numbs the pain of her loss, but leaves her aimless and all the more pliable. If the circlet were ripped away, she would surrender on condition she was transported to Faroe to seek revenge on Vagn. The troops would follow her orders to stand down unless in the presence of the Deathless himself.
Alerted: Revna is not present, instead leading her troops.
9
Mother Death, her enveloping cloak of feathers and worms, rendered in black marble, stands tall in this chamber. Within the voluminous folds of the cloak teem the child-like dead, seeking the embrace. No tool mark mars this creation. If it could be transported, it would be worth 10000sp.
10
Rough worked stone walls contain nothing but empty space. A small hole in the corner of the chamber allows a family of rats entrance. The sound of a hammer on metal rings out from the west.
11
A small blacksmiths has been built here, holes bored into the ceiling to allow smoke to escape. All day, the forges are hot as weapons are maintained and fresh blades hammered out. The blacksmith and his apprentice knew no peace before this keep, living itinerant and chased from village to village.
12
Six warriors man the arrowslits, bundles of 50 arrows sat in bins beside each. Long, narrow spears allow them to jab into adjacent rooms.
13
Crautreic (2HD, Shortsword) dwells here, face obscured behind a mask of bone extracted from his own skull. He speaks Pictish, but struggles with other tongues. He believes himself smitten with Revna - in truth, he is just lonely, his will not yet entirely subsumed to the service of the Deathless. If Revna surrenders, Crautreic will join her - unwittingly acting as a beacon for the Deathless to hunt such traitors.
The room, despite its size, is bare of ornaments of most furniture beyond a bed and a lantern. In the absence of light, a section of wall becomes intangible, and can be walked through.
Crautreic has yet to learn any spells - the Deathless wishes him to become desperate.
14
Rough hewn stone surrounds a stash of wealth, extracted from those under the thumb of the Deathless (Bandit III):
15
Walls painted black and a door flush with the wall, blocking all light when closed. From the walls extend twisted rods of iron. Any trapped in here without light is tormented with visions of the dead clawing out of the walls, wearing the faces of loved ones and those slain alike. Such tortures have been used to break many a reticent headsman.
16
Three hounds, their rear halves replaced with monstrously bloated spider-abdomens twitching with borrowed legs, explode out of this room if the bolts are thrown open. They attack all ceaselessly, pedipalps hidden beneath jowls, teeth envenomed. The chamber contains multitudes of web.
HD 4 / AC as Leather / Damage 1d6 plus 1d6 temporary Strength damage - avoided by a Physique Save. Those reduced to 0 Strength collapse, unable to move their heavy limbs. Strength returns at a rate of 1 point per Turn.
17
Stairs lead upwards, the walls set with mosaics of mermaids, ships and shells.
18
A table fills much of this space, bereft of contents. Tall, high-backed chairs leave little room to squeeze around the outskirts of the room.
19
A stone shelf is the only feature of this room - everything else is bare.
20
A heavy portcullis controls access to a set of stairs leading down into the carved stone of the mountain. Beside the portcullis, a wooden table and chair. A man (HD4, Maille, Mace), hairless, wordless, wielding a mace, guards the lever controlling the portcullis. His free hand holds a dog, collared with chain. Around the dog’s neck are keys for D2, D3 and D4.
21
Stairs of rough stone lead down into the depths.
22
Half-assembled cots and empty chests litter this room.
23
A half-excavated chamber, the work seemingly abandoned.
24
As 12
1
Stairs lead down to a door-studded chamber. A thick wooden table with a single seat sits in the centre. The doors to 2, 3 and 4 are solid wood with a small iron shutter. All three are locked.
2
Here is imprisoned Jattab (1HD), who stumbled upon the Keep. The Deathless holds him as a potential sacrifice - or as a hostage. Jattab knows enough to not reveal that he is no noble nor rich merchant’s son.
3
This chamber is empty bar a clan of rats. Amongst their swarming masses, a rat-king lurks.
4
Vello, Nisigni, Dano and Vano are here in chains. Miners from Divodurum, they were stolen away by black-clad riders emerging impossibly from the tunnels of the mine. None have yet been questioned - they know not why they are here.
5
A deep, earthy smell combined with the sound of swine emanates from this chamber, echoing down the corridors. Within, hardly any light illuminates a chaos of fungal-beds and long-legged pallid swine creeping between the beds. No one species of fungus dominates - all co-mingle amongst the pigshit and corpses chewed upon by the pigs. The bodies are victims and servants alike, no manner of death uniting them.
A huge, slime-dripping fungal protrusion growing from the wall is in fact a hidden door, leading to the east.
6
Kenver (3HD, Sword), his skull worn proudly as a mask, dwells here as penance. His robe is stained with his tasking, his very bedchambers smelling of wet rot and pigshit. This punishment only reinforces his loyalty and love of the Deathless.
He can cast Hold Person, and has three such charms. Those so held he binds and stores in the cells.
Alerted: Kenver is not present here.
7
Vats of white chalky paint form a circle around a single brazier, filled with charcoal. The floor and walls are covered in hundreds of hand prints in white paint - most are crossed out.
8
Multi-tiered wooden racks host ranks of drying mushrooms - several barrels containing crushed salt dessicate the air, leaving it noticeably dry. Those knowing of cures could find any fungal cure they desired here - and many poisons and drugs besides.
9
Musical instruments made of bone and skin form heaps in this chamber. The sound from all of them is wheedling and unearthly - if played in combat, mortals suffer a -1 to Morale rolls whilst Bone Painted Men add +1 to Morale rolls.
The bone and skin used in their construction is human.
10
A wooden table bears a bronze insert - an accurate geographical map of the northern world. Jewels pick out settlements, many long gone, eradicated by the march of time. Picking out all the jewels takes 3 Turns - they are worth 1000sp in total. The entire table is monstrously heavy - requiring a wagon and a team of two horses to be moved. It is worth 15000sp.
11
A heaped collection of drums and rattles, thick with web and dust.
12
A table, gouged heavily, sits surrounded by ugly metal implements.
13
A heavy iron bar holds the door closed from the outside - the door also of iron. Within is Maebh (3HD), a Ruis druid, denied sunlight and the presence of living things until she reveals the secrets of her order to the Deathless. Silver needles have been driven into her joints - any movement will devastate her muscles and nerves. Removing them is slow, agonising work.
She knows how to cast Cure Light Wounds, Dispel Magic, Fear and Neutralise Poison, but has none of her components. Returning her to the Druid-Cult in Ruislip is would induct the rescuers as heroes - able to access the combined druidic knowledge and to be sure of their support.
14
A slime-infested pool holds two diseased Nymphs (as Dryads), jaws and ankles bound in silver chain. Twelve Pearlesencent slugs crawl amongst them. The nymphs only stare at those entering the chamber sadly. If the chains are broken, they gift rescuers with a tear which negates the powers of their kind.
15
A figure is nailed to a wooden table. They squirm, fingers and tongue ruined with shards of glass. Tubes descend from the ceiling, tipped in wide needles plunging into the flesh of the figure, drawing out the blood slowly. A Troll, denied death - once a day they are fed tough bread.
16
A marble bowl of blood slowly congeals - paddles and bladed sticks to stir and break up the ever-forming scabs litter the walls. Tubing in the ceiling slowly drips blood in from above - the tubes leading to the west. Smeared on wounds, this blood heals 2d6 HP. There are four doses in the pool currently.
17 & 18
Walls of stone surround nothing. Scratches on the floor indicate furniture being dragged.
19
Lightless, this chamber is filled with naked people, eyes screwed shut, heads shaven clean. They are packed too tightly to allow entry, and ignore everything - lest they risk their initiation.
20
Broken bodies litter the floor, five blood-stained figures at the centre wielding broken bones. All are nude, and are Painted Men despite the lack of markings. They attack all not bearing the mark of the Deathless.
21
No cots but rags serve as beds for the 35 Painted Men here, their weapons carried with them always. A low burning fire provides scant illumination. They have no songs nor games - when bereft of orders they only squat and wait, sigils upon their skin squirming in the dark.
Alerted: Nothing but rags and the smell of extinguished fires.
22
The door to this chamber is heavily barred from the outside, reinforced with thick bands of iron. Within are many works of art, a harp, a sumptuous bed with silk dressings and a wardrobe filled with expensive clothes hewing to no style. A small bell rests delicately beside the bed - chimed, it summons Marsus from D25.
The art consists of five items. Three form a set, being interlocking plates of gold crafted to appear as the surface of a stormy sea (worth 600sp, takes up 2 inventory slots). The other two are tapestries filled with abstract Pictish knotwork patterns (worth 500sp each, each filling 2 inventory slots).
23
An assemblage of arm-sized lumps of crystal held with bronze hoops and arms fills this space. The crystals give off a low hum which modulates as if imitating speech. The machine is in constant motion, always on the edge of entanglement and collapse. Any manipulation of a single component causes the entire device to tear itself to pieces, a pulsing shriek given off as reverberations decohere and clash. This sound alerts the entire floor.
24
Here lives Leonid (3HD, Maille, Sword), face hidden beneath their own skull. In his mouth he holds spiders, each delicately clinging to the teeth - his little children, little helpers and little spies. He whispers to them wordlessly, unable to close his mouth for fear of infanticide. In defence of the greater number, he spits them at attackers, tears streaming down his face.
All are poisonous. Leonid spits one per combat round, rolling to hit as with a ranged weapon. Those struck may either forgo actions to crush the spider before it bites, or make a Physique save to avoid its effects - slumber filled with nightmare mountains of spiders collapsing and consuming empires. Such sleep lasts an hour, and the sufferer appears grey-faced and dead to those not trained in healing arts.
Reports from agents in every court of this corner of the world fill his chamber - detailing the strength of factions, the weaknesses of monarchs and the feeling of peoples. The wall behind a desk, shoved into the south-eastern corner, is incorporeal, although Leonid does not know it.
Alerted: Leonid is not present.
25-31
Each of these chambers holds a wraith, each able to speak with a voice stolen from earthworms. They all ask about one thing - Lysandra. If proof of her death can be presented to them, all seven dissipate. Those without answers are attacked, terrible screeches echoing through the halls and alerting the floor. In life, their names were Maursus, Favonius, Ulfila, Sidonia, Fabia, Vipsania and Postumia - all fallen lictors denied death.
Each chamber contains a small urn containing funeral-earth.
Alerted: None of the Wraiths are present.
32
Hidden behind a wall of dry-stacked bricks enchanted to blend with the surrounding carven stone, this chamber contains a small altar of stone. Upon this altar rests a Revenant Sword (&T), the constituent elements made of silver, gleaming between the veins of lead that bind them together.
33
The door to this chamber is metal, opened and closed through the spinning of a wheel and the turning of a cunning mechanism within.
This chamber is a sphere of negative space, a floor of wooden planks sitting a third of the way up. Hanging from the walls and ceiling are insectile machines, their metal legs terminating in minute blades and steel pincers. Each emerged from a node of gears and cogs affixed to the stone, the workings exposed. At first, they hang inert. Any crossing the chamber without uttering the command-phrase finds themselves attacked by the room. It makes up to five attacks at once, each at +3 to hit and dealing 1d6+1 damage. A single flurry of these attacks is made per attempt to cross the room. Attempts to destroy the machinery only encourage violence - treat as armoured in Heavy + Shield and having 80HP.
34
A sphere of negative space filled with wooden walkways, the lower half flooded with murky waters, alive with movement. Within dwell 28 Armed Eels. Each has had the arms of a macaque grafted to them, allowing them to climb from the water in search of prey. They attack in squirming masses if not placated with meat.
HD 3* / AC as Leather / Damage 1d6
* Swarm - maximum damage is 3 for melee weapons and 1 for ranged. Automatically hits targets. Always fails Dodge saves.
35
A chair of steel sits upon heavy struts of wood, leather straps set on the arms, legs and back. A low table of wood sits adjacent. Within the book are faces, forever hidden behind bone.
36
Lurking in the darkness that clings to the top of this sphere is Xaolon-nemon, a demon. It manifests as a horned spider. The size of an ancient oak, twelve legs set with eyes and hooked hairs emerge from a body studded with ichor-filled horns of bone. Wriggling fingers ring a human mouth twisted and ragged.
A delicate chain of platinum binds it here. In a voice learnt from the shrieks of the dying, it offers mercy to those who would break the chain, and promises to kill the Deathless. If refused, she attacks as is her duty.
If released, it does spare its rescuers and kills the Deathless. Then it infests the mountains over the next few months, raising broods of pony-sized spiders to haunt the peaks forever more, an empire of web. If Xaolon-nemon meets the party again, it will spare them no quarter.
HD 8* / AC as Full Length Maille/ Damage 1d6+2 plus Physique Save or die. At the beginning of combat, launches a 40’ web - all must make a Dodging Save or become trapped, requiring (15 minus Strength) rounds to tear free.
* Supernatural HP.
The children of Xaolon-nemon are 3HD, AC as Maille, Damage 1d6 plus Physique Save to avoid paralysis for 1d6 rounds.
37
Shelves are filled with loose sheaves and bound tomes, scrolls and parchments - the stored lore of a sorcerer who has defied death. No taxonomic system nor ordering principle exists here - discoveries are happenstance. For each month spent searching here, a random spell and ward is discovered. However, such searching takes a toll - 1 Constitution is lost permanently, the dust of ages settling in the lungs.
38
This narrow chamber lacks the ornamentation of many other rooms. The walls are of rough stone, the floor uneven. A shaft in the ceiling leads to G5. Each of the doors leading away from this chamber are made of lead, a blind eye sculpted in the centre.
39
Wardrobes fill this space, leaving it narrow and uncomfortable. Within are clothes of all stripes and descriptions - with time and knowledge, one could disguise themselves as a member of any society. The entire collection is worth 10000sp, but will fill two wagons. Taking only the most expensive items (taking 3 hours to find) would fill 25 slots and be worth 6000sp.
40
Shelves heavy with jars and baskets, teeming with the raw materials of sorcery. A patch of wall to the west is translucent and incorporeal, allowing sight and passage into D24. Carved into the ceiling is a dreadful squid-like creature, eyes of milky pearl. If any of the magical components are touched, it animates, fighting as a Living Statue.
Searching the shelves, the following may be found:
41
At the centre of this room is a single, small chest, swallowed by the space around it. It contains only a fragment of wood, polished smooth by the touch of many fingers.
42
This long, winding passage eventually leads to daylight - a hidden route to and from the Keep.
The stone walls, floor and ceiling on this floor are smoothed stone. Candles illuminate much of the floor.
1
Stairs curl upwards to a long hall, the walls carved in a bas-relief depicting a stampede of animals, their eyes wild and staring. Candles ring the design, illuminating it and giving the illusion of movement as the flames sway.
2
A spacious bedchamber, hung with fabrics. The bed is rich and comfortable, pillows of goose-down. The door locks from the outside only.
3
Three wooden manikins wear masks of thick stone, each depicting an identical snarling dog. If donned, a new chain of Gnolls begins, unbound to any leader.
4
A single finger, huge, withered, shrouded in peeling skin, squirms around this chamber, a hook of platinum with a chain of the same material binding it to the ceiling. Behind the fingernail, an infected eye watches. Ink stains the walls and floor.
Presented with ink and paper, the finger may ‘print’ perfectly legible text in a language readable to the one presenting such materials. The print details what lies in the heart of the supplicant’s followers. Peers are excluded from such disclosure.
For illiterate supplicants, the finger prints the symbol locked within the mind that breaks the spirit. Humans witnessing the symbol must make a Warding Save or become broken entirely, empty vessels for the will of another.
If the chain is broken, the finger withers away to nothing, returning to the place demons dwell.
HD 4 / AC as Leather / Damage 1d6
5
The door to this chamber is bolted from the outside. Within, a small cot and a child cowering atop it. They beg for rescue, but are vague on home or where to take them. In truth, they are a Doppelganger. If rescued, they bind their time before impersonating one of the party and sowing interpersonal conflict.
6
A crown of iron rests upon a brow hidden behind bone - the face obscured behind its own skull. A voluminous black robe hides a body ridden with scars from surgeries and mutilations, the right hand missing entirely. Already nameless but not yet deathless, this chosen acolyte leads the other apprentices. They have learned deeply of the sorceries of their master, but carry no reagents.
Their cell is plastered with anatomical diagrams of all manner of creatures - many of their glands highlighted, a shockingly clumsy hand annotating the diagrams.
3HD, Maille, Shortsword, Lightning Bolt (1/day), Sleep (1/day).
7
Here Yrsa (2HD, Leather, Two-Handed Axe) practices her letters, learning to read all the tongues of the land - raised only to speak Norse. Her face is still naked, not yet masked in bone. She yearns for that day, and will not allow any intruders to interfere with it.
8
A bed, made perfectly. No personal effects mar the sterility of this cell.
9
A bed, made perfectly. At first glance, no personal effects mar the sterility of this cell. Hidden within a pillow is a carved figurine of whale-ivory, depicting a bear.
a
The north-south corridor terminates in a featureless wall. This wall is illusory, and may be passed through without issue. Careful observation reveals that the pits and divots in the wall do not become illuminated if a light-source is held near - the image is static.
10
A large central wooden table is surrounded by eight stools, the table stained with lurid colours and burnt in several locations. Plentiful ink and paper fills the niches carved into the walls. A conspicuously unlit candle sits near the south-eastern corner of the room. Twisted, it causes a section of wall to swing outwards and a dreadful wailing sound to reverberate through the keep - alerting all to intruders.
11
Wooden bookshelves sag heavily, overloaded with all manner of tomes. No guiding principle themes the collection, although nothing of mystical power is contained within. Much could be learned of anatomy, history, astrology and philosophy. The total collection, totalling 240 books and scrolls, would fill 40 inventory slots and be worth 12500sp.
12
A statue, shaped as a woman wailing and clutching a bundle, fills this space. From the mouth pours the dreadful wailing - destroying the statue silences the alarm. The bundle is hollow, and hides 1200sp worth of precious stones uncut and unset accompanied by a single draught of Hero-mead (&T) in a stoppered horn.
13
Upon a table of heavy scarred wood, the remains of a body. Bound in leather straps, the internal organs have been displaced, finding new homes in glass jars cunningly blown with magnifying glass and filled with preservative liquors. Folding seats of wood are propped against the southern wall.
14
A false-throne of lead supports a half-life abomination, cowled in shadow that dances in light instead of retreating. It does nothing but laugh at intruders, pointing and clapping emaciated hands delightedly.
1HD / AC as Unarmoured / Does not attack.
n.b. Anything below this point is hidden behind illusionary walls, each intangible. Careful observation reveals that the pits and divots in the wall do not become illuminated if a light-source is held near - the image is static.
15
Faceless skulls fill shelves of stone. There are 182 in total, none distinguished with a name or marker of individuality.
16
A heavy desk, crowded with candles and skulls - surrounding it are sheaves of paper, chairs buried. All of the sheets are blank. The desk sports a pair of drawers - the left contains a knife of knapped flint, the handle twine. The right contains a poisonous snake coiled around a corroded key set with a gem. Disturbed, the snake strikes at +2, dealing 1 damage and injecting venom that kills over 6 hours if a Physique Save is not made - those dying feeling a creeping coldness spreading throughout their limbs like a wave of freezing fire.
17
As soon as the wall is breached, the sound of pained moans fills the air. Within are twelve human forms, bound with cord to the corners of square wooden frames. The face of each is hidden behind bone, fused with the flesh. All are alive and utterly delirious - given a taste of the deathlessness they sought, as long as they remain bound and agonised. For every 2 killed, the Deathless loses 1HD - but immediately becomes aware of intruders and where they are.
18
The walls of this chamber are heavily scratched, a nub of stone discarded nearby. Amongst the random carvings are names, repeated over and over to the point of intelligibility. They read “Eirik, Vidkunn, Tufi, Vog” in the Norse script. A single pile of bones moulder in a corner - enough to have once been a human being. The illusory wall only allows exit if a single living creature remains in the room.
19
Heavy shadows lay thick over the accumulated detritus of sorcery piled around the walls. The centre is clear bar a seat of blue-green metal, studded with tubular protuberances and trailing ropes of rubbery material. Upon this seat sits the Deathless himself.
Blackened armour made of intricate connected rings, each thorned and glistening, covers the entire body. The full-face visor depicts a face screaming in agony. No openings permit sight. In one fist the Deathless wields a bronze two-handed sword, a design of crawling worms worked into the blade. Wounds made by this blade do not bleed - the blade itself weeping blood instead.
From within, an icy voice emanates, ringing with the metal - it speaks all the tongues of the land and many which are buried. Those intruding this chambered are offered a single opportunity to swear fealty or die.
In combat, the Deathless is treated as permanently under the effects of Haste and Protection from Missiles. Hirelings must test Morale to engage with him. He will either use his first turn to cast a debilitating spell and then rush in to slay those effected, or charge into combat and then use magic to disarm any threats. The sound of combat with the Deathless does not echo throughout the halls - the illusory walls deadening all sound. Struck, the Deathless bleeds only bitter, spoiled sea-water. If reduced to 3HD or less, the Deathless seeks to flee, using the secret escape from G4.
He may cast the following spells - the numbers in parenthesis indicating how often. Those marked with a † are cast without physical components.
Baleful Polymorph (1), Charm Person (1†), Colour Spray (2), Confusion (1), Dispel Magic (1), Fear (1†), Fireball (2), Hold Person (1), Slow (1), Wall of Fire (1).
HD 10* / AC as Full Length Maille and Shield / Damage 2d6, plus those struck are flung back as if by a Warhammer.
* Supernatural HP
Amongst the shadowed piles, a wealth of sorcery - the Deathless able to use any of these if given time to rummage. (Magic User IV)
20
A huge stone table is stained deeply with red and black. Upon the surface rests a golden sickle and a knife of silver. Per HD of creature sacrificed upon the table, 1 question may be asked of the fates. These are answered in visions delivered in dream. Such prophecy is unfixed, and indicates only the general trend of history. Mortals are bound to ever struggle against such decrees.
21
The sound of braying, barking, howling and lowing fills this chamber - but all is inaudible from outside it. In gilded cages are all manners of beast, stolen from their habitats and transported huge distances. Rippling orange-black felines prowl heavily, paws massive. Boars with single strips of hair carefully watch furred mockeries of humans, exploring the confines of their enclosure in a small gang.
If they could be transported, the animals would be worth:
22
A low wall of brick bifurcates this chamber. Within each half is a pedestal, laid over with rich black silk.
Atop the southern pedestal is a sea-green orb, seemingly of marble. Bronze hoops surround it, all able to rotate freely past one another but none able to be released. Touching the orb with naked flesh generates a shimmering field of energy. Careful manipulation of the hoops controls this field - changing its shape and function. The main modes are:
Learning these settings is a huge investment of time. For each week spent experimenting during spare time (whilst travelling, resting etc) there is a 1% cumulative chance that one of the functions is discovered and a 1% (non-cumulative) chance that a disaster occurs as some misalignment causes a mismatch of field-type and energy - a Floating Lantern outputting pure heat, for example. Per week spent in intensive study of the orb, there is a 5% cumulative chance a function is discovered and a 2% non-cumulative chance of disaster occurring.
Atop the northern pedestal is an ugly cube, the surface warty and rippled. It is made of dull black metal which hides shades of red within itself - appearing only when heavily shadowed. The warty protuberances have an uncomfortably organic aspect - feeling almost like cold flesh to the finger. They can be twisted and stroked to generate unpleasant tones from the device which resonate with the skull and set up weird echoes. With practice, an operator could learn to play ‘tunes’ with these notes, generating effects in human listeners failing a Physique roll. Such loathsome noises are projected forward from the cube in a 60° cone out to 80’ - those outside of the cone simply unnerved by the sounds.
One who plays at studying the cube will find nothing but grotesque noises. Serious students are rewarded: for each week spent doing nothing but studying, one of the Tunes is revealed - the rigidity of the protuberances suggesting the next ‘note’ to be played. One spending years in practice could eventually teach the cube new songs.
A nest of woven fibres perches amongst the craggy peaks, the sea audible but hidden behind curtains of stone. Within this nest dwells Ulea. A crow the size of a small dog, she had learnt to talk. To those approaching, she croaks in her rough voice, asking if they have any wool for her nest. In return, she offers to spy - travelling 6 hexes a day. For each sheepskin offered, she is willing to stay away for 4 days. She refuses to move from her home.
An grave beside a huge boulder. The gravestone is engraved with Latin: “By the Grace of God, Miguel lifted this stone above his head and none other has done so.”
Lifting the stone requires 18 strength - lifting it above head-height requires 19.
Beneath a jutting spear of stone, a Basilisk tends to a clutch of eggs, shifting but once a week to dig for minerals. If an egg was stolen, it would relentlessly follow, guided by some inerring sense. In such a pursuit, it would not abandon caution.
Taqiy Abdul-Hafiz Bitar toils amongst the rocks, his horse laden with a tent and many springs of herbs. He speaks Arabic and Catal fluently. To those keeping him company at night, he inadvertently teaches Wards - speaking of little but his foraging and pursuit of such plants. If asked to expound on his knowledge, he is shy - unwilling to say something wrong and get another hurt again.
For each night spent, roll once on the table below:
| 1d10 | Ward |
|---|---|
| 1 | Betony, chewed or applied as an unguent. |
| 2 | Cowslip, drunk as a tea. |
| 3 | Elecampane, eaten. |
| 4 | Hazelnuts, worn in a necklace. |
| 5 | Hawthorn, carried. |
| 6 | Herb Paris, the berry smeared on the brow. |
| 7 | Meullein Candle, the leaves burnt. |
| 8 | Rowan, ground to paste and smeared on a shield. |
| 9 | Verbena, worn in the pocket. |
| 10 | Yew, shaped into a shield. |
A single hawthorn rises from amongst the dried grasses around it, incongruent amongst the scorched plants. A toad dwells in the roots, equally out of place. Beneath both, a spring flows, hidden by the earth.
A fortified village wears a coat of spikes. They fly no flags and claim no liege - 71 refusing to leave the no-man’s-land, they now claim to live free. In truth, they are extorted by The Deathless, his 7 bound Wraiths riding to collect tribute once a month. Without coercion, none speak of this - for who could stand against such power?
Enderquina (1HD) once was a terror to those who threatened the village. Since trying to stand against the Wraiths, she is left withered and reduced. She would rather kill those who might bring doom to the village than hope for liberation, leading others armed with clubs to where such brave souls might sleep.
5 footmen, 12 skirmishers.
Smoke rises from Lisieux, built over the river as it finds the coast and eventually the sea. A wooden palisade envelops it, a gate controlling access to the river and thereby the mainland itself. Huge smoke-houses teem with fish, outnumbering the 83 of the village.
Meginhard (3HD, Maille, Bow, Sword) inherited his position and is ill-equipped for it, much preferring his time spent at sea. No-one blames him for this, even as they decry his lack of leadership. He leads a small militia, enforcing the 40% tax on all imports and providing the documents which allow foreign feet to travel through Western Frankia. Those travelling without such documents are outlawed.
Cordelia (1HD) dwells within a over-turned boat hull, her many charms and herbs hidden within it. Her Gallum and Latin have a heavy Brythonic accent. For decades she has given the people of Lisieux healing - for which they do not thank her. All have requested curses to settle grudges, for which they despise her. Given Pyorran wines, she can cast Cure Light Wounds once a day. Given the fierce distilled spirits of Fortu, she teaches Wards in a slurred voice - the purifying effects of burnt Sulphur, a garland of Rosemary against the unseen and the blood of a Wolf worn by at least three companions.
7 footmen, 13 skirmishers plus 4 fishing boats
One walking backwards into the river finds themselves falling into different waters - becalmed, the sky a burnt umber. A wide plain of devastation surrounds a small lake. Diving to the bottom of the lake, one finds themselves surfacing in the river once more.
Within this fold in space dwells the Tarasconnet. From a heavy shell, thorned with iron, emerges four powerful stout limbs each tipped with a pair of human hands. The head is elongated, whiskered, boar-tusks caging a lascivious tongue. It knows how to come and go from this place, and knows how to drown a victim deep enough their friends cannot help.
The Tarasconnet dies in salt-water.
HD 8* / AC as Full Length Maille with Shield / Damage 1d6+1
*Supernatural HP
The only cruelty spared outsiders is outright violence. No home offers a welcome, none of the 39 souls a smile. Amongst these hostile folk run sounders of swine, joyful, fat, delighted. The fishing boats of Bibax moulder on the coast, unused.
Once a week, the women of the village collect a single hog and throw it, back-first, into the river. They know what happens if the thing in the river which cannot be found is not fed. All know the story of when one was hired to slay such a beast - the terrible revenge visited upon them.
3 footmen, 6 skirmishers.
A keep of modern construction, stone buildings beside a wall blocking entrance from the East. 140 warriors are garrisoned here, 40 of them marines tending to their their three Karvi. At night, all listen to the groans of the mountain to the south. Those with children recognise growing pains.
Theodon (4HD, Maille, Shield, Warhammer, Javelin) knew both Kings before Frankia was split. Although he has cast his lot in with Cheldric, he wishes to see Frankia re-united. For now, he praises God that war does not pass between them. Resentfully seconded to him is Prince Agilbert (2HD, Maille, Shield, Sword). Agilbert believes he should have command of the keep, and hungers for war against his uncle. The marines are loyal to him, but stay their hand for now.
Once a month, a heavy wagon with 40 Horsemen arrives from Romus to collect the accrued wealth - 3d6*100sp worth of goods and coins.
30 armoured footmen, 40 marines, 30 footmen, 40 skirmishers plus 3 Karvi.
Old stone is fortified carefully, keeping the keep alive. It is sandwiched between the sea and the mountains, appearing inconsequential. The 150 warriors within watch both carefully - within their cellars, the duties they collect glimmer. Any entering Western Frankia without written permission from the king can expect a 40% tax levied on all goods. Those paying are given documents allowing entry - those caught abroad without are liable to be outlawed. Any resisting paying are attacked with the goal of driving them away.
Above the central keep flies the flag of Cyr (4HD, Full Length Maille, Sword, Throwing-Axe, Shield), inflexible in the application of his duty. He coddles his daughter, Erpsuid (2HD, Leather, Bow, Battle-Axe) despite her position as lieutenant, responsible for the boats and the interdiction of taxable vessels. She is always keen to exercise her power outside his reach.
Outside the walls, a herd of horses, 20 in number, crop the grass. One is sick, head swelling grotesquely after disturbing a bee’s nest. Cyr (1HD), the stable-boy, frets about this, his meagre experience already exhausted.
Once a month, a heavy wagon with 40 Horsemen arrives from Romus to collect the accrued wealth - 3d6*100sp worth of goods and coins.
35 armoured footmen, 35 footmen, 30 marines, 20 horsemen, 30 skirmishers plus 2 Karvi.
In a sea-cave dwells Hubert (3HD, Leather, Sling, Spear, Shield), alone. He offers a pledge of service and undying loyalty in return for the same. He was cast out from society for killing and eating dogs - any accompanying him are tarred with the same reputation. Any breaking their oath to him will be hounded by Hubert forever more.
The gates of Lugdunum are closed, and a white cross banner hangs from every window. Singing and screaming co-mingle in the air. The village is in the grip of a preacher, Tacitus, who bears a new Bible demanding militant preparation for a coming apocalypse. The sea grows teeth and prepares to swallow the world. The 95 of Lugdunum believe they alone are among the elect, but this utopia must be defended. Those not partaking of the services in the village centre instead man the palisade walls, firing at any daring to approach.
Within the walls Tacitus institutes new rules weekly - abolishing private property, marriages and secrets. Children take to this new creed and spy upon their parents. Food is held in common, parcelled out by the trusted ‘Angels’ appointed by Tacitus. The ‘Angels’ knew of his coming, and prepared the populace for months beforehand.
In two months time, King Cheldric will learn of this insurrection and dispatch 150 warriors to crush it. 3d6 of Lugdunum survive the siege and resultant conflagration. Tacitus is not found amongst the dead.
12 ‘Angels’ (armoured footmen),22 footmen, 22 skirmishers.
Crows gather by the shore here, grouped up companionably. When one catches a fish, all share the feast.
The houses of Autricum are small and neat, their cleanliness belying their age. Those within tend their vines - no feuds nor grudges break the toil. Time passes these 81 souls by, few leaving. All owe their fealty to Unroch in his hall to the South. For generations they have served and been spared the now-storied wrath of the family. Any who whisper of sedition disappear in the night, although who informs remain unknown. All are engaged in maintaining the appearance of total service.
Lepon (3HD, Leather, Spear, Bow) feels the burden of the community’s safety. To ensure it, he has become a brutal enforcer of Unroch’s will, hollowing himself out entirely. He has given up a son in the past, his nights haunted by a final look of desperation as the doors closed once more.
8 footmen, 12 skirmishers.
Ten Gargoyles sit upon the sand-dunes, nearly indistinguishable from their mineral surroundings. None has joined their coven for decades. One retains speech and memory but has little inclination to share. Finding one of their descendants in Autricum or Lisieux could coax some wisdom: “Seek blessed lilly-smoke against Unroch, who was young when I was.”
Meledunum lives in the shadow of Brecheliant. All of the 47 carry arms, and feel the trees in their dreams. Many were born here, yet still avert their gaze from the wooden encroachment.
Oclauia (3HD, Leather, Bow, Sword) watches all visitors like a hawk, encouraging them to do their business and leave. Often, soldiers from Salhabast descend upon the village, drunk and leering, fighting and stealing. Three days ago, Oclauia killed one, burying them between the trees of the forest. Ramnulf, captain of Salhabast, assumes a deserter. In four nights time, the corpse will arise anew, fleshed hardened with root and mind full of spite. It will harass the village for weeks, killing individually and spreading terror. (5HD* / AC as Maille/ Damage 1d6+1)
*Supernatural HD
Tasco (1HD), a priest, frets within his simple church. He is plagued by visions of carnivorous trees, and feels an itch beneath his skin that prayer and recitations will not ease. To those visiting and planning a journey into Brecheliant, he teaches the Chant of Warrior Saints - a musical procession of names and deeds.
24 skirmishers.
A low hill hides an Earth Elemental who sleeps but fitfully - awakening for any blood at all, not just that of a monarch. Bronze spearheads stud its hide still - it would continue the grudge against man given the chance.
Those resting in this hex dream of crushing chthonic depths, mouths full of soil and mineral and worms.
A sprawl of stone and wood and smoke and water spread out on the central plain of West Frankia. Layers of walls, built, overcome, repaired and maintained ripple throughout the city, threaded by road and river alike. 3257 souls squirm through the streets, animals crowding close. The old name, Noviodunum, is outlawed - uttering it a crime.
The castle of King Cheldric (5HD, Byzantine Plate, Sword, Shield) fuses with the Grand Cathedral, forming a single amalgam around which the city revolves. Within the cathedral is buried Charlemagne, father to Cheldric and Bovo both. An honour-guard of 15 picked warriors watches over this royal tomb. Ownership of this body is the basis of Cheldric’s claim to the larger kingdom of Frankia - though he does not risk open war. He fears Brecheliant, and reinforces his kingdom internally. Treasure-hunters darken his court with uncouth manners and unsophisticated wants - the bounty both kings pay for Roman artefacts, further signs of legitimacy, is well known. Those selling fakes are on display in gibbets beside the palace.
Within the court is Goscelin (2HD), sworn in secrecy to Unroch. He seeks to obtain blackmail on the other courtiers, slowly distributing bribes amongst their servants. If a disreputable group presented themselves, he would happily pay them to engineer such happenings.
Bishop Engilbert (1HD) agitates for the destruction of Brecheliant as a heathen encroachment of long-eradicated Druidic origin. The forest looms over all his sermons and teachings, which are beginning to take root amongst the most faithful. Cheldric has no interest in so open a provocation. Some within the church speak of a holy conflagration without royal assent. Engilbert watches the construction of a rival cathedral in Divodurum closely, and ponders sabotage.
Those asking after dogs with faces eventually meet with Camula (2HD), her face gone. In practiced Latin script, she explains a hound with a regal face promised her a kingdom for a kiss. Instead, it stole her face. This happened on the Western edge of Brecheliant, as she travelled with a band of treasure-hunters.
200 footmen, 100 armoured footmen, 200 skirmishers, 150 horsemen.
The wide flat farms of Frankia are here broken by a small fort of mortared stone. Three powerful warhorses roam the paddock, attended by a mute stablekeep. The fort itself hosts one calling them Unroch. Their true name is Tullus Nasennius Augurius, their life sustained on the blood of the indigenous peoples once crushed by the Empire. A vampire, none of their 22 household staff suspect a thing - their wills and minds eroded by close proximity. His 23 warriors simply do not care - barracked in a separate building and kept in drink and meat. All wear maille and carry axes, javelins and shields.
Tullus cannot bear the sun nor wine nor scattered seeds. He currently attempts to garner influence in the court of King Cheldric, eventually gaining leverage over the king himself. Messages are delivered weekly on their progress.
Unexpected visitors are simply told that the master of the hall is away seeing relatives in Eastern Frankia.
Hidden beneath the floor, a cavity holds the accrued wealth of lifetimes. If given time to prepare, Tullus will use anything within the hoard to aid their defence - or escape. (Monstrous IV)
A mound of high-walled construction has been dug through several times by treasure-hunters, the central chambers long cleared out. All missed the prisoner beneath the heavy stone floor. A Mummy of Ruislip, leaden chains broken, rages in the lightless passage below. It has assembled 12 Skeleton servants, all of whom scratch and scrape at the stone, hoping to attract attention when next greed drives men to plumb the tomb.
Such a prisoner bears no grave-goods.
100 troops squat in the fort of stone, built long ago over the river that flows from the encroaching trunks to the south. At night, when they take watch, all have seen something creep from that landscape of fear only to lose track of it, clouds conspiring to cover moonlight illumination. Those off duty drink.
Ramnulf (2HD, Maille, Bow, Two-Handed Sword) has locked himself away within his offices. He knows Brecheliant will take him if he dares leave the keep. He pays no attention to the missing man, Bilius. The men feel little pity, and take advantage of his absence. There is no love lost between soldiers and nobles.
25 footmen, 25 armoured footmen, 35 skirmishers, 15 horsemen.
16 Bandits lair in an abandoned stable amongst the many fields and farms of the area. They ride massive farm-horses, and carry javelins, swords and shields. Half wear leather, the others wearing maille. All wear a signet ring declaring them servants of Hunald, and under his protection. If caught, all loudly declare their service and suggest their captors take it up with their liege.
They are led by Kunopennos (4HD, Maille, Bow, Warhammer) who respects no Istvaeonic King nor lord - but is happy to extort and scapegoat them even as she collects from local villages. She has no designs of republic or liberty. Left unchecked, she would amass a war-band and become a mercenary captain.
In the basement of the stable, Glismodis (1HD) is held as ransom. She stays quiet, unwilling to risk the attentions to Kunopennos. The basement also hosts their stolen booty (Bandit II). Glismodis is able to slip her bonds, and quietly paws through the stash, hoping to find something of use. In a week’s time, she will find the Demonface Coin and evoke it. She will free the demon within, causing widespread destruction as it rampages, consuming all the farmlands surrounding Romus before descending upon the city. The bandits are unaware of the coin, thinking it only a trinket.
The village of Vesontio drowns in a sea of wheat. 87 tend to the fields built by ancestors forgotten. Life has its own rhythm here, the outside world intruding but rarely. When Kunopennos descends, they give her bread - it is much the same as taxes to them. All within the village know their crops will not fail, for they have made the right sacrifices.
Tanisius (3HD, Leather, Two-Handed Axe) is the inheritor of an old, nameless tradition. In Winter, when the sun becomes a stranger, his family has always led the Secret Bull, raised out of sight, down-river to the stones. A knife of bronze, kept sharp and surviving countless rulers, opens up the throat of this bull upon the altar - by his blood the crops are fertilised, and another year promises full bellies and happy lords. Remacle (1HD), the local Priest, attends these rites. He feels the pull of arts forbidden by the Church - presented with a sorcerer, he would pledge fealty immediately.
8 footmen, 12 skirmishers.
The fork of the river hots Arelate, the homes on stilts and their dogs curly-furred. Fish are smoked year-round, the smell settling into the hair, clothes and skin. The 68 dwelling here are thin and suspicious of outsiders - much has already been taken.
Attalus (2HD, Leather, Spear) plans to plead with the lord known as Unroch to the North-East, the village gathering gifts to sway him. Kunopennos’ demands starve the village, and none within have the authority to challenge sworn servants of a lord. Attalus believes that outright violence against her band is sure to lead to outlawry for all involved. Tullus will happily induct them into his fold, feeding upon those chosen to serve him directly.
6 footmen, 8 skirmishers.
A deep rent in the earth, 18’ wide and 4’ across splits a small hill nearly in half. 32’ down, a Black Pudding lurks, bubbled up from the dark places of the earth. If fired upon, it flees down to where it came. Offered a limb, a tendril snakes up the nerves of the donor, burrowing into the brain and allowing Speak with Dead to cast once per week on a buried corpse - resonant with the earth-bound dead.
A herd of 32 deer press against the edge of Brecheliant, placing but a single hoof within before fleeing again. If attacked, they retaliate - trapped and desperate.
A single survivor remains of Limonum. They rest, catatonic upon the river bank, surrounded by footprints leading directly into the river. They awaken in 4 days, remembering nothing but able to cast Sleep once per day. The houses are untouched, empty for only two days.
Where the river curves, an ox-bow lake rests. Constructed within it, partially submerged when heavy rains come, is a stone circle, the central altar stained nearly black with generations of sacrifice. The bones of hundreds of bulls mix with human beneath the waters.
A huge spotted warhorse crops the grass here. It hates sorcerers - in their presence, Morale must be tested, failure indicating the horse attacking immediately. Otherwise, it never shies from danger nor loses control. It has 4HD.
A shabby lean-to shades beneath an old tree. Within dwells Man (1HD), who only knows the word ‘Man’ in all tongues, pointing at themselves and others. His eyes are unblinking, too-large, breaths deep and ragged. To those displaying no hostility, he demonstrates the use of the stones in 18.29.
The walled town of Divodurum is shrouded in stone and smoke, backed up into the mountains they gut and delve for iron. Hundreds toil beneath the earth whilst the streets ring with the beating of hammers, 542 souls bound to the fate of a mine.
Malaric (3HD, Maille, Shield, Battle-Axe), nephew to King Cheldric, rules over the town wit the close assistance of Rothin (2HD), the bishop of the town. Many whisper she has Malaric firmly wooed despite her vows - in truth, he is a poor leader where she is wise. Much of the wealth of the town flows into Church coffers, funding the construction of a cathedral to rival that of Romus. She knows this snubs Engilbert, and delights in the opportunity to humble an old man too used to power. She pays much of the court to ensure Malaric is favoured with his uncle - she dreams of a puppet king firmly under her thumb.
All within the town are proud of their home, asserting their individuality and special privileges of taxation independent of Romus. No slight against it goes unchallenged. Only in drink do the miners mutter of disappearances amongst their number, and of shadowed forms in the tunnels where the iron runs richest.
In three months time, the miners will breach an immense vault. Within slumbers Ultaruum, a wingless dragon with scales of bone. What kingdom she once ruled beneath the earth is long forgotten, her hoard the wealth of the mountain itself. 20 orcs, ancient, armoured in cast-off scales, slumber with her. The excavation awakens both - Ultaruum emerging and razing the town whilst the orcs reclaim the iron, spawning more of themselves with each acquisition. Once Divodurum is destroyed they return to their vault. Cheldric’s armies, sent months later, are destroyed utterly. Western Frankia so falls to chaos.
20 footmen, 20 armoured footmen, 30 skirmishers.
Visible beneath the surface of the river, sunken stones forming a series of six tables. The first barely sits above the silt, whilst the last is exposed to the air when the river runs low. Lying upon each table in succession transmogrifies the subject. For those descending, gills grow, fingers web and scales bloom beneath itchy skin. Those ascending reverse this process. This only functions beneath a cloud-shrouded moon. 12 bronze trinkets are hidden beneath the riverbed, detailing hybrids of fish and humans in varying states. Each is worth 100sp.
Forgotten amongst the foothills is a corpse, banded armour rusted to uselessness. A tattered banner, somehow still legible, sits beside it - a deep crimson with a black bull crushing a snake. The top-piece of the banner is an eagle, wings spread.
A meagre clump of trees, sickly and yellow, hosts a Dryad cast out from Brecheliant. She hides in a hollow beneath the largest tree, throwing her voice through badger-tunnels, playing as a petty god of forgotten places. She demands passing groups leave a member of their party behind as penance for intrusion. Those left are dominated, heads filled with soft light. Beneath the roots the bones of prior suitors moulder - and with them, their possessions (Monstrous II):
Atop a hill, a rude fort of stakes flies no banner. Within are 19 Hobgoblins, each with a mated pair of tamed riding-wolves. They await travellers to waylay and interrogate - it has been too long since they saw a village burn. Wolf-pups romp in the mud churned by their labours.
9 wear leather, carry shields, short swords and javelins, speaking Latin amongst themselves. Another 9 wear banded Byzantine armour, carrying swords and shields. Their leader wears an ancient bronze panoply, speaking only broken Latin and fluent Archaic Greek. He carries a sword, shield and spear, and has 4HD. Their wolves fight as 2HD creatures with AC as Leather.
During the day, 2d4 are out scouting the nearby area, returning in d4 hours. If 1 hour is rolled, roll 3d20 for how many minutes away they are.
Within their camp are the spoils of generations of war (Bandit III):
A natural rest-stop for journeys with a shady tree and a calm pool. Weaving webs between the branches is a Learned Spider (&T), eager to find worthy apprentices.
Upon the hills is a petroglyph of an immense white horse, jaws wide and tongue distended, snake-like in aspect.
The 67 of Suidinim strain towards freedom. In the last decade they have only seen taxmen and soldiers enter the forest - only to take and impoverish, never to aid them. No more - a crude palisade loops around the buildings, all carrying long knives and bows. All strangers are suspect.
Aisa (3HD, Maille, Two-Handed Axe) has noticed the forest leaving the village be since their resolution. Speaking of this to few, she and some others giver little prayers and offerings to the trees. She does not realise that most have noticed it too.
Epalus and Vritea (1HD) fret for their missing son, Dobagni - gone for weeks, disappearing with the setting son. If he could be found, they would give their lives savings - 150sp.
25 untrained Footmen, 30 untrained Skirmishers.
At the centre of a clearing filled with low creeping flowers is a pile of stone rubble. Roof tiles are mixed with the debris. Those spending time here become aware of rhythmic pounding from beneath the rubble. Removed, a Golem of avian aspect reaches upwards out of an excavated basement. It has long become berserk, grabbing the nearest victim and pulling them into the basement to crush them to death.
Within this basement, the long-buried wealth of a wizard, skull crushed in the collapse (Magic User II):
Atop a wooded foothill sprawls a camp of hide tents and wooden cages. Within lair 9 Ogres - they have agreed they all wish to possess humans, and to share their humans equally. They have 10 prisoners, each in their own cage filled with furs, cooking pots and ill-fitting clothes. They work in pairs, one carrying a branch to obliterate any tracks they leave. At night, they creep into villages and steal the isolated and lonely. Those they capture are treated as pets, given new names and fed whatever the Ogres steal. They know how to travel great distances using 22.29. 1d6 are absent at any given time, returning in d12 Turns with a 50% chance of a new ‘pet’.
Their foul delights net no profit - they have no hoard of goods.
None of the prisoners could make it home unassisted. They are:
The shadowed canopy provides a roof for a band of 14 Centaurs, dwelling near the river. They listen for boats or travellers unused to pathless woods, delighting in terror and careless of injury. 1d10 of them are out marauding in the wood during the day, returning before sunfall. Their shelterless camp consists only of stolen goods, mouldering in the rain, filled with ants. Four warhorses, stolen from adventurers, restlessly pace. They are not spared the cruelty of the band.
Above the river, where the branches arch towards one another yet never cross leaves, a tiny rope bridge has been constructed. Across it scamper mice. The trees on either side have been hollowed out, hosting a total of 16 families. All 171 mice speak Gallum. To those offering no threat, they offer to steal from or spy upon any of the villages nearby in return for loaves of bread, hocks of ham and similarly large items of food.
If threatened, the mice attack in swarms, using tiny blades of iron to hack and cut. 1d6 of a swarm can be killed per round, and every 10 mice in a swarm cause 1 point of damage per round.
Once proven trustworthy, 2d6 of the more adventurous mice offer to join the party as retainers.
In the deep blackness of the forest where no light has touched the fallen leaves since winter the 48 of Lutetia go about their days, eyes wide and nostrils flared. The recognise no kinship with any hailing outside Brecheliant - at night they creep close to Suidinum and watch those whose eyes are opened to the truth. In some years, they will aid them in relocating to the darker places of the forest.
They speak an archaic precursor to both Gallum and Orleanis. A central tree amongst their low hide tents hangs with fingernails, extracted from the ring-finger as a adulthood ceremony.
Only 9 wear the bark armour (encumbers are heavy, protects as Medium) and wield iron blades of unworked star-metal. The rest wield javelins of wood (-1 to hit) and go unarmoured, harassing intruders who stray too close to their home. Three are as Druids - one knowing Sleep, another Protection from Metal and the third Phantasm. Each can cast their spell 1/day. Within Brecheliant, the people of Lutetia have surprise 4-in-6.
If one could deliver their lost member, Atri, they would be escorted through Brecheliant as friends.
9 Bark-Warriors, 25 Unarmoured Skirmishers.
Trees swallow stone walls, buckle cobblestones and cloak still-standing buildings. Moss crawls and sprays of fern perambulate through streets. Beneath the green is carbon-black, charcoal and charred bone. This town, the stone wall still standing in places, once held 431. Now it is haunted by those entombed in flames.
Per Turn spent searching or travelling at night, there is a 2-in-6 chance of encountering 1d4 Salamanders accompanied by 3d6 Skeletons, unarmoured and wielding improvised weapons (Light damage, -1 to hit). They move in a lurching procession, the Skeletons reaching out to the crawling bonepile Salamanders. For each Turn spent searching, there is a 5% chance of discovering an untouched Roman artefact - worth 300sp to Bovo or Cheldric. Finally, there is an additional 5% chance of encountering 2d6 Treasure-Seekers - the first d6 of whom wear light armour, carrying swords, bows, rope and picks, the second d6 wearing medium armour and carrying maces, javelins and shields. A hostile reaction indicates they have found d4 Roman artefacts and are concerned about claim-jumping.
At the centre of this ruin, a squat building of stone houses two Sphinx, each schooled in Roman Law and empowered to act as executioners. They speak only Latin, and will be discussing the case against the party when first encountered - their Reaction indicates if they feel the party should be put to death or allowed to go free.Once this trial is concluded, a cunning legal argument could convince them to join either Bovo or Cheldric in their courts - lending huge legitimacy to their claims as inheritors of Rome.
Within the woods, a low pit hides four large chunks of Sulphur, bright yellow and pungent without burning. The pit shows no signs of tool-work nor or claws. The grass around it shows sign of old burning.
Those travelling through this hex find it especially forested, the sky entirely hidden behind the canopy. They are imperceptibly transported to 31.30, continuing in their original direction of travel.
The eight families of Avaricum, 35 souls in all, swear fealty only to the giant otters to the south. No human monarch has answered their pleas - only Bora and Coro, who demand little but stories and the bodies of intruders who dare tread the wooded places of the earth.
Tasgilla (2HD, Leather, Bow, Club) carries a carnyx, dug from the barrow and gifted to the village by Coro. Blown, the low mournful note summons the otters to the aid of the village. The mouth of the carnyx resembles a horned serpent. Currently she pleads with the otters to find Litania, missing for a month. Any who returned this lost soul would be viewed as sent by Bora and Coro, spared the fate of being fed to them.
9 footmen, 9 skirmishers.
An earthen burrow hides four stone eggs, stolen and stashed by a Cockatrice haunting the forest. Despite petrification, if the Cockatrice dies all four hatch - the cycle continuing as the new generation disperse.
The Cockatrice is here 5% of the time, returning in 1d6 days. If 1 day is rolled, roll a d20 for how many hours.
Amongst the hills, a barrow-mound beside the river has been emptied. Within dwell Bora and Coro, sibling giant Otters. From this grave-made-nest they rule their petty kingdom. Beneath the earth, they have burrowed a tunnel from the mound to the river, allowing for easy escape.
The first story of Bora and Coro is that they ate their other siblings, greedy for affection from their parents. For this they were cast out, or so the story goes.
The second story of Bora and Coro is that they ate the bones of a long-dead chief as they emptied his tomb, each learning some part of his knowledge, or so the story goes.
Bora knows how to lead men into battle, allowing them to grip onto her fur as she smashes through enemy ranks. Coro understands Latin, Gallum and Orleanis, although cannot speak them.
HD 6 / AC as Maille/ Damage 1d6+1
Within the barrow are the grave-goods of a king ousted and yet living still (Tomb III):
In a small camp atop a hill waits Vathlauss (2HD, Maille, Two-Handed Axe, Throwing Axe). He only speaks Norse. A kinslayer, and branded as such, he waits for whomever his gods send to him that he might earn penance. After three months of faithful service, he renders judgement upon the party, betraying them as they deserve or continuing his service.
Amidst the hills and trees, swallowed by the green, are the remnants of a hillfort, the earthwork defences still ringing the hilltop. Within, rotted timbers co-mingle with fallen stones, both half-submerged in the earth. Only a single tree, huge, wide, gnarled and grim, grows inside the confines of the fort.
Amongst the debris, hidden by fallen branches, a set of stone steps, worn to the point of appearing molten, lead down into the heart of the hill. A round chamber, girded with roots, contains a stone jar atop a table. From the ceiling, tied to the hanging roots, are bones, skulls and feathers. Opened, the jar lets off a pungent cedar-oil aroma, filling the nostrils and head. Suspended in the fluid is the head and hands of a Centurion, still helmeted. Six rings of office decorate the hands, each worth 150sp. The helmet is worth 400sp. Bovo or Cheldric pay double for such Roman goods.
If anything is removed the jar, the Ennt above animates, the roots below thrashing and making un-coordinated (as 1HD) attacks against all within the chamber, dealing 1d6 damage. Those taking 1 damage are instead caught within the roots, dragged up into the ceiling where they take another 2d6 damage a round, dragged up through the earth despite the protestation of bone and flesh, suffocating on dense earth. The Ennt will not allow such intruders to escape.
81 Goblins shudder in the arboreal gloom, constructing poor shelter from a shattered raft and what sticks and branches they are able to find and drag. All carry knives and pans, pouches of coins retained as totems of something lost and unable to be articulated. One carries a taxidermised eagle which they follow as a banner.
One of unusually small size carries a Rat King Nerve-Map, (&T) running twisted fingers over it. Soon they will learn Invisibility.
6d6 are scavenging in the forest at any given time, returning in 1d6 days - if at all.
Between the hills coils a nightmare of stone segments forming a huge snake - Tannis, a Juggernaut. It has twelve such segments, carven with battlements and overgrown with stiff hairs, usable as spears. The tail is a low, rough ramp - able to be climbed without equipment. The head resembles a hound, empty jaws snapping open and closed when chasing prey. The joint connecting the head-section is bereft of spear-hairs, and vulnerable to cutting weapons. Cut, Tannis bleeds grey fluid which boils away in the air, giving off toxic fumes that befuddle the mind. Those in such a cloud must make a Physique save to keep their composure - failure resulting in near-certain death beneath the crushing bulk.
Those using the hairs as spears find them light enough to be thrown as javelins whilst still having the reach of normal spear.
13 Elves dwell amongst the ivy-clad ruins of an oppodium. Three carry two-handed axes with bits of bronze, whilst the rest have clubs and wooden javelins (-1 to hit). All have bloodstained mouths and emaciated forms - they only eat humans. They see perfectly at night, eyes reflective disks like a cat. They know how to take advantage of this. The entire band moves as one - during the day they sleep hidden beneath their vegetable cloaks. During night, they are always out hunting, returning before daybreak.
Amongst the ruins, the wealth of their victims gathers like owl-pellets (Monstrous II):
A gentle curve in the river plays soft music for the thick, close-set trees. Within this usurped grove are 15 armoured Skeletons. They remember a lifetime spent conquering, moving in close formation, shields locked together. Their armour is the Heavy banded plate of empire, their swords leaf-bladed and shields large and square. They are led by a preserved Centurion (as Mummy), mind filled with old glories and endless war against the forest. All not bearing Roman seals are treated as rebellious subjects - to be broken without mercy.
Ever-crawling on all fours, this is the lair of Dens Musco the Giant. Branches and stones are embedded deeply in his ever-bleeding forearms and knees, mossy teeth exposed to the world through a rictus of pain. His distended belly is filled with items made with any ornamentation - eating craft sustains him. He often carries a young tree, using it to sweep away those who do not willingly give up their ornamented items. His attacks strike all in a cone in front of him.
This is where he slumbers - a hollow rubbed away beneath a tree carved with messages long lost to the growth of the bark. He is here 20% of the time, returning in 1d6 days.
The goods within his stomach are preserved - one slaying him could excavate them (Monstrous III), gore-stained and reeking:
Those travelling through this hex find it especially forested, the sky entirely hidden behind the canopy. They are imperceptibly transported to 33.31, continuing in their original direction of travel.
When travelling through this hex, no encounters are rolled. Nor are birds herd or herbivores spotted through the undergrowth. Silence breeds beneath the trees.
Six trolls, wracked with infection from their wounds, dwell within a wolf-den, crawling through the tunnels. They desolate the area with their ceaseless consumption. None are able to speak nor hold tools, fingers and tongues tattered. One wears a wolf-pelt, daring the others to try and eat it.
Any struck by these trolls must make a Physique save or acquire a horrendous infection - dealing d6 Constitution damage per day, allowing a Physique save per day to fight off the infection. This damage recovers at a rate of 1/day, 3/day if doing nothing but resting.
Those travelling through this hex find it especially forested, the sky entirely hidden behind the canopy. They are imperceptibly transported to 34.29, continuing in their original direction of travel.
Where the forest grows sparse and rock emerges from the earth, a cave-system with a single entrance. On what scant earth remains are hundreds of paw-prints, resembling that of a dog. An animal stink emerges from the cave entrance, warm and foetid.
Within is unlit, the walls and floor raw stone carved by geological time. Footing is uneven - bipeds either strike at -2 or risk falling over when struck, a Dodge Save allowing them to keep their footing.
Dogs here are 1+1HD, have AC as Unarmoured + Shield and deal 1d6 damage. They may pile on to prone opponents, allowing up to 8 dogs to attack a single target.
Sound carries throughout the cave system - all denizens converge cautiously on the source of any loud noise.
Per turn spent here, there is a 2-in-6 chance of 3d6 additional dogs returning from their hunt. They begin following the scent of their intruders.
1
12 dogs sleep here, rangier than the rest - left on the outskirts of the cave, they all have bites on their ears and tails. Given a ration each, they could be convinced to turn against their pack.
2
3 bitches nurse 36 puppies. They are too heavy and sore to fight, but bark loudly, alerting the rest of the cave.
3
10 dogs stand guard over a Manticore with the face of a woman. She nurses a clutch of 12 horrors. Each is the size of a full-grown hound, their faces replaced with flat open weeping absences, small tendrils squirming in the air hungrily. They have 2HD, AC as Leather and deal 1d6 damage. On a maximum damage roll, they leap up and ‘kiss’ their opponent, stealing their face if no mask or helm covers it. They then become full Manticores over the rest of the round before fleeing.
Those left faceless are unable to see, smell or speak.
4
25 dogs sleep in heaps, ears and paws twitching with dreams of hunts.
5
11 dogs play-fight over gnawed human bones. Left on the floor, three full suits of mail, gore-stained but usable alongside three swords and shields.
6
15 hunting hounds (+1HP) wearing barding of maille guard a Manticore with a regal face. In a rich voice, the Manticore demands intruders leave - it promises to destroy its face rather than allow it to be delivered to “the undeserving monarch who stoops down to exert some small, sad control over a simple loyal hound.” This threat is bluster. The Manticore has no ambitions - he knows his very existence pains King Roderik enough. If the Manticore is killed, the face dies with it.
A herd of mountain goats thoughtfully watch those attempting the climb the mountains. The younger members skillfully bound past such climbers as if taunting them. If any are harmed, the adults begin stamping on fingers and kicking out pitons.
A set of worn steps wind their way around one of the lower peaks, the air still thin and bitter-cold. Within a stone hovel dwells Gyda (1HD), bearer of the Plague Club (&T). Any who come to her bearing an illness she offers to strike with the club in return for an oath to serve no lord nor monarch for the rest of their lives. Those breaking this oath have all the plagues of the land visited upon them, dying in agony.
Stones stacked with patience form a hall incongruent with its mountain setting, stout timbers supporting a roof built at double the normal height. A pair of double doors, borrowed from a barn, complete the building.
Within lairs a Wyvern who has long outlived their father. They built a hall to hold their disgraced son and failed prince. The pretenders either side of the mountains fill him with malice.
Rusted arms and armour form rust-streaks on the stone around the hall. Fragments of bone are amongst them.
There is a 40% chance the Wyvern is present - otherwise returning in d20 hours. He lands nearby and cautiously checks his hall before entering.
The hall contains what living-death grave-goods have not been lost over the long march of years (Tomb IV):
Upon the slopes dwell 21 Bandits. Each once dwelt in the city of Remus but chafed beneath King Bovo. All wear leather. 10 use bows and swords whilst the other 10 wield shields, javelins and battle-axes.
They are led by Solovico (3HD, Maille, Bow, Two-Handed Axe). He cares nothing for his band, and would happily sacrifice them to establish himself a new fiefdom. He would happily swear allegiance to those he could not defeat - breaking another oath means nothing to him.
Once a month, the band descends to make demands upon Crociatonum, taking food and drink before returning to their homes. They know the village is too isolated for help.
An inviting gorge, filled with greenery, the stream fresh and pure. The only accompaniment to the sound of flowing water is birdsong. In the upper reaches, hundreds of 2’ wide holes are bored into the stone. At night, their inhabitants crawl forth, descending upon the valley. 108 Kobolds, with sharpened sticks and blades of flint (-1 to hit), set against all invaders to their valley.
Beneath the waters of the stream, human bones accumulate. Anything they once wore is carried up into the mountain and dropped into hidden places, locked away from the sun forever.
Snow coats steps carved into stone and once maintained fastidiously. Finding them is unlikely - only a 1-in-6 chance. Those discovering and following them wind their way up the nameless mountain, eventually finding themselves in a hidden grotto. Stacked stone forms walls, adding symmetry to the natural stone. A low doorway allows entrance into the mountain, the air moist and hot despite the snowy surrounds.
Within, a cavern, extending beyond the reach of a torch. Emerging from the darkness is a stone table before a 20’ statue of iron. It depicts a burning, armoured figure, grotesquely muscled, fanged mouth emerging from a horned helm. From this mouth drips blood, collecting in a trough. The statue and the blood are boiling hot.
Those daubed with this blood add +2 to hit and damage for a week, veins boiling with murder and rage. If they do not kill at least 6 humans over this week, they die on the seventh night.
If a warrior is sacrificed upon the stone table with their own weapon, the Gothrog animates - serving for days equal to the HD of the warrior slain. The one performing the sacrifice is then forfeit - eaten by the creature as it returns to rest once more as a metal statue, mouth bloody. The one eaten does not stop screaming for weeks, the sound echoing in an iron belly.
A poor camp in the valleys hosts Cincius (2HD, Leather, Sword, Bow), nearly frozen to death. Speaking only Latin, he will sign up with any band that will have him. He eventually reveals he is fleeing the Church, far stronger in the South. To those he truly trusts, he reveals why - he carries a Grimoire, written in Latin and detailing spells he hopes to learn and cast. He was tasked with delivering the book by a priest, only to be nearly captured by the religious authorities. Whilst fleeing, he began reading and understanding. He is happy to share - more than power, Cincius wants friends.
The book has a Difficulty of 4 (see &T) and contains Curse, Darkness, Dimension Door, Hold Person and Protection from Missiles.
Cincius does not know that the priest, Sextus, has tracked him to these northern backwaters. A group of 11 mercenaries originating in Faroe are tracking him. They carry 2000sp for bribes and accumulated costs in recovering the book and killing Cincius. Currently, they are 2 weeks behind him.
The snowclad peaks, near-inaccessible, houses a clutch of 6 Griffons approaching maturity. No longer do their parents deposit them in the valleys to hunt - they now fly under their own strength, taking their first tentative hunts abroad.
All are starving, and itch for freedom and gore-stained talons.
There is a 40% chance of 1d6 Griffons being present. If not Surprised, attack any approaching the nest, attempting to grab and drop such poor unfortunates.
The village of Alesia watches the sea. The lives of the 91 inhabitants are bound up to that expanse of water - boats are built, fishermen bob and frames of fished are smoked on the coast.
Devignata (2HD, Leather, Bow, Sword) bears the burden of protecting the village. Despite the proximity, she has seen the soldiers of Skalkbast leave the villagers to be dragged aboard ships, never to return. A racing horse crops grass outside her home. In the case of an attack, she rides hard to the East. She knows how to command the Golem - a secret passed down between the village heads.
5 footmen 7 skirmishers plus 4 fishing boats.
A lump of fired clay juts from the side of a hill beside the river as if emerging - or buried suddenly. Excavated, this is revealed to the head of a 9’ human figure made of interlocking clay spheres. If struck, The Golem awakens and sets about defending itself.
If the command phrase is activated, it digs itself out effortlessly.
Above the waves and before the foothills, the remains of Nemausus stud the earth. Some scant few buildings of stone remain standing, whilst most are reduced to squares of knee-high impressions or collapsed heaps. The roads between the buildings are still used - treasure-hunters pick between the homes, seeking what others may have missed. Few find much of note, and none remain after dark - from beneath the earth, they say, the revenge of those who once dwelt here rises - the sound of barking dogs once set to hunt serviles through the streets.
Amongst the ruins are still-accessible entrances leading beneath Nemausus. All but the desperate avoid these holes- and the desperate rarely return.
There are five of these entrances - finding one takes d6 hours. If one is discovered, roll a d6 to determine which has been found:
| d6 | Entrance |
|---|---|
| 1-2 | A simple stone-edged hole where once a home stood. Leads to 1. |
| 3 | A set of stone stairs leading down, hidden behind a still-standing wall. Leads to 15. |
| 4 | An earthen ramp, recently excavated. Leads to 19. |
| 5 | Stone steps within a larger, crumbled estate. Leads to 24. |
| 6 | An open pit, lined with stone near a moss-clad ruin. Leads to 28. |
After dark, there is a 2-in-6 chance per hour of an encounter. Use the table for Level 1, substituting Gelatinous Cube with 2d20 Treasure Hunters.
Straight-edged rooms and passages are of worked stone with wooden reinforcements where not specified otherwise.
Rough-edged rooms and chambers are of burrowed earth, varying between 5’5 and 6’ high - any attacks with large swinging weapons are impossible.
No encounters are rolled in rooms 1-11.
Where unspecified, Kobolds carry ancient Swords, 3 Javelins and wicker Shields. Due to their small size, two Kobolds with spears may attack from behind their allies.
| d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-10 | 2d6 Kobolds. |
| 11-15 | 2d6 Kobolds wearing armour of man-leather. |
| 16-20 | A Gelatinous Cube. |
| 21-24 | 1d6 Kobolds wearing armour of man-leather, 1d6 Kobolds wearing breastplates of stone (as Medium) and 1d6 Giant Moles on leashes (2HD / AC as Leather / Damage 1d6). |
| 25-30 | 2d6 Kobolds with Spears, and an equal number with human-sized ancient square shields. Those carrying the shields make no strikes, but are treated as wearing Heavy armour. |
| 31+ | Nothing. |
1
Earthen walls and crumbled plaster. A tunnel, reinforced with stout trunks, extends to the north.
2
Thick, choking dust fills this chamber - any sharp movement through it filling the air. Those within must make a Physique save to not begin hacking and coughing - triggering an encounter roll and dealing 1 damage. A solid door in the south-eastern corner is made of treated wood, the hinges of corroded iron thick enough to withstand the years.
3
This wide chamber has walls of stacked stones, roughly hewn. Within these walls are many niches, filled with pouches and gnawed candles unburnt. To the south, an immense set of white stone steps lead downwards for 15’, a dull glow of fire visible. Examined closely, these steps bow significantly towards the centre. Any weight exceeding a single foot on a single step is enough to break them - the victim requiring a Reflex Save or falling into a 10’ pit filled with broken glass, taking 3d6 damage. Those wearing Heavy or Medium armour only take 2d6 damage.
There are 128 niches, of which 92 have pouches. Each pouch contains 6 silver denarii (1sp/5sp to a collector) and a prayer written in Latin. Almost all the prayers wish for the safe return of brothers and sons from Albann.
4
The unadorned walls to the north, east and west contrast with the delicate mosaic on the southern wall, detailing a large key. Any depressing the teeth of the key reveal the secret entrance to 5 - a false wall.
5
A stone desk, flanked by the ruins of wooden chairs. Scattered upon it are several wax tablets, the wax chewed by rodents. From a hook upon the wall hangs a long-ruined cloak, rich red with white inlays and gold thread.
6
18 Gargoyles squat immobile in this chamber. Each has an Imperial seal stamped into their foreheads above the word “PUBLICANVS”. Amidst them is an iron cage without a lock, standing 8’x6’x2’. Within are 4 chests. The Gargoyles watch intruders carefully, only initiating combat if the cage or its contents are interfered with.
Within the cage, the long-undelivered taxes of an imperial province (Bandit III, doubled):
7
Wooden shelves with deep niches cover the walls of this chamber, a long-empty brass lamp hanging from the ceiling on a long chain. Within the niches, a mix of wax tablets and papyrus scrolls - 75 in total. Each, in Latin, details the specific agreements between various officials and “local chieftans”, outlying their responsibilities and taxes owed to Rome, as well as the protections and liberties guaranteed to them. Each ends with a promise of eradication if the terms are broken. This collection takes up 40 inventory slots, and is worth 8000sp to Bovo or Cheldric.
If the chain from the ceiling is pulled, a section of the bookcase clicks - revealing a false doorway leading to 11.
8
Wrapped in linen sheets and heavily bejewelled, a Sphinx rests in the southern half of this room. Around it, a variety of crushed rodents mingle their blood with cast-off precious stones and documents of empire. In Latin, the Sphinx politely introduces itself as Caecilius, and demands that any items taken from ***_5, 6, 7*** or 8 are returned before violence is required. Beyond this, they are happy to idly chat about the long-dead empire which they represent - “My flesh sworn eternal, what else is there to do but haunt such a ruin?”
Upon their left ear is a earring bearing a pearl in a perfect replica of skull. Given a drop of blood, it can cast Animate Dead once per month - Caecilius doing so in the first round of combat.
9
24 marble pillars reach up into the darkness, supporting a ceiling 50’ high. The smooth white stone of the floor is marred with dried blood and scatterings of ash, illuminated by 6 Fire Elementals which slowly drift between the pillars. They pounce upon any entering the chamber, swarming like bees. Amongst the piles of ash are molten bones and scorched teeth.
To the south, a stout wooden door is bolted shut on this side.
10
Two pools of water, choked with green algae and slimy growths, fill this chamber. Above the pools, hooks are socketed directly into the walls, 4 bearing spoiled towels.
Those plunging themselves into the pools must make a Physique save. Those failing sicken and die over the next week, whilst those passing are merely bedridden. Drinking the water allows no such save.
To the east, a set of double doors plated in brass. They are decorated, picturing an immense serpent draped over a crushed statue.
11
From the ceiling hang many coloured fabrics gathered in piles upon the floor. Amongst this fabric maze is Hadriana, a Medusa. She breathes deeply of the fumes emerging from a crack in the floor - they fill her mind with visions of impossible pasts undreamed off. Silently she pads through her chamber, hunting intruders, a knife in her hand to slit open fabric and let her dire gaze beam through.
Upon her body is the wealth owed to imperial rank and noble station (Monstrous III):
12
Niches fill the walls here, filled with rat-gnawed sandals and boots. A stout door to the north is bolted shut - 32 combined Strength is required to burst it open, although the narrow passage allows only 2 individuals to bear their might.
13
Rusted barrel-hoops rest amongst mouldering wood - spread around the room and bearing prints resembling those of a small dog. To the west, a rough-hewn passage has been burrowed through the wall.
14
The western wall of this chamber has been excavated crudely, stonework giving way to packed earth. The mud covers much of the floor, bearing impressions of small dog-prints.
15
Stone steps lead up to the surface here. Fine red sand which holds prints well and sticks to feet has been spread upon them, leaving a noticeable trail. Those not taking a Turn to clean their feet roll for Encounters every 5 minutes rather than the usual 10.
16
The northern and eastern walls of this chamber have collapsed, a tunnel of earth leading away to the south. Gathered in the south-eastern corner are 18 rough pewter goblets and 12 human bones, carved with small scratchy symbols with no clear meaning. Rubbed together, the bones produce a fierce unearthly-green glow which illuminates out to 40’. Creatures which normally are resistant to normal weapons become vulnerable in this glow. They know this and fear it. Each pair of bones glows for 3 Turns before the light intensifies and dies.
17
A mixture of animal and human bones have been stuck into the earthen walls of this chamber, sharp edges jutting inwards. Broken shards of flint fill the floor. From the south, yips and barks echo.
18
The ceiling of this chamber is supported with four un-worked tree-trunks. Between them are 37 Kobolds, fighting over small trinkets and scraps of fabric. 10 bear human-sized shields, 20 spears and 7 swords and shields. Their noise does not carry far in the soft tunnels extending from this chamber. If pressed, they flee to 23.
19
An earthen ramp leads up from this otherwise open basement. The sound of barks and yips, muffled, echo from the north.
20
12 Kobolds attempt to re-capture a 4HD Giant Mole, keeping it at bay with their spears. One has a pole with a noose of rope on the end.
21
Broken flint scrapers accumulate in piles. To the north, the sound of digging and barking.
22
10 Kobolds and 2 Giant Moles work to extend their tunnel to the north. One supervises. It has 3HD, wears a Coat of Coins (&T) made of silver denarii and golden aurei and wields an iron sword. It wears a ring formed of a single blue-white crystal. In the sun it reflects light like a mirror.
23
28 Kobolds wearing manwith shields and swords rest here, fur mottled with scars. All fight with +1 to hit, having tasted battle before and savouring it. They guard an open tunnel, 15’ wide, which leads down into the darkness. From it a wet-warm animal stink wafts, combining with mineral scents.
23a Following the downwards slope, it eventually flattens into a huge natural cavern, 300’ by 200’. The northern wall bleeds a strange red-brown fluid, congealing around a vertical opening with the appearance of angry red flesh. Every 24 hours, a new Kobold is born.
24
A set of stone steps, heavily worn, lead out of this crumbling basement. Upon the walls are carved messages in Latin, resisting the ebb of time to impart their messages upon future readers: “JULIUS HAS A BIG PENIS”, “JULIUS HAS A DISEASE OF THE CROTCH”, “GAULS LIKE IT ROMAN STYLE” and “I, ANTIOCHUS, SHAT ON THE MOTHER OF THEOPHILUS. SHE SAID THANK YOU.”
25
Bloodstains mingle with smashed pottery and cracked flagstones. Amongst the wreckage lurks a Minotaur, unable to leave through the tunnel dug in from the West. Broken Kobold bodies, dismembered and tossed around like playthings, rest atop the other debris. Around the neck of the minotaur is a thick golden chain bearing a wide golden tablet. Upon it, in Latin, is the text: “FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE IMPERIUM AFTER AN OATH OF SUBJUGATION SO THIS MAN NOW GUARDS THAT WHICH HE WOULD HAVE DESTROYED.” It is worth 500sp, or 1500sp to a collector.
26
A long-dry pool once fed by warped lead pipes. It is 15’ deep. A mosaic of bathers fills the northern wall.
27
Upon a throne of blades, pierced a hundred times, is a Mummy in the regalia of a king of old. It is immobile, the tips of the blades hammered flat. Upon its brow is a gold-and-electrum crown, detailed with hunting scenes. The animals upon it bleed rubies, and the riders have opals in place of their heads. It is worth 5000sp and Elves cower in its presence.
28
There is no ceiling here - only an open pit, 9’ high, with no ladder nor rope allowing easy exit. A tunnel has been excavated in the south-western corner.
Build around the road, Aregenua gives the impression that the buildings crept out of the forest to press closer to the track. Many of the 46 make a living breeding farm animals and selling them in Remus - dressing well for peasants. At either end of the village, a wooden sign with a Latin inscription - “Aregenua Is The Most Delightful Village In All Frankia.”
Eberulf (2HD, Sword) breeds farm-horses, extracting a small fee from the fellow villagers when they borrow his breeding stock. He is keen to see Condate laid low - to those seeming suitably unscrupulous, he offers 150sp for the theft of their beloved sign. Though he does not specify, he will not accept any death as part of this feud.
3 footmen, 4 skirmishers.
A fort of wood, overlooking the coast and the flat grasslands all about. Within 70 soldiers share space with their horses and boats. Beneath the fort moulder old stones from structures built here before, abandoned and forgotten. Many of them look bitterly upon the central keep, held for the exclusive use of their captain.
Vicelin (1HD, Maille, Axe, Shield), cousin to King Bovo, commands the fort. He is far more interested in extracting wealth and living the high-life than with protecting the borders of the kingdom. He has commanded his troops to not aid villagers being raided before, citing concern about an ambush. Those passing near the fort are accosted by horsemen and brought before him, where he assigns invented taxes and levies.
25 horsemen, 15 footmen, 30 skirmishers plus 2 Karvi-equivalent.
A stag hosts four crows upon its antlers. The crows seem to act as look-outs whilst the stag crops the grasses and undergrowth.
The scant roofs of Rotomagus barely crest the sea of wheat that surrounds them. Of the 32, 26 are employed to work the fields. The remaining 6 dwell in a house of stone and thatch.
Magneric (3HD, Maille, Two-Handed Sword) demands to be treated as nobility. Once a standard bearer and now retired, he resents not dying in battle. Around him are his wife, Fara, who tends to the employees like a shepherd to their flock, and their four sons. All are cruel, delighting in tauntings and mischief. They are named Bero, Munderic, Wichmann and Faroinus, and fight as Armoured Footmen.
Amongst the workers is Caturo (2HD). Beneath his simple shirt swirl ancient markings that predate the church. He can take the cruelties of Magneric no longer - any giving him aid in burning down their house and fields earns his eternal loyalty.
4 armoured footman, plus 6 footmen (improvised weapons).
Happy swine commingle with sheep and cattle, Condate ever-heaving despite pastoral surrounds. Fields are tilled diligently, and most of the 83 take pains to be cordial with visitors. In the village centre, a wooden board has a painted inscription in Latin - “Condate Is The Most Hospitable Village In All Frankia.”
Talutius (3HD, Knife) bustles around the village, trying to identify and solve any and all issues. His entire life is bound up with his home - any slight against one is a slight against the other, and not taken lightly. He earnestly warns any visitors to never tarry in Aregenua - a hovel-collection of rogues and vagabonds.
9 footmen, 8 skirmishers.
87 Bandits gather here, their camp hidden between the gentle hills. At night, some creep north and spy upon Skalkbast, counting the soldiers and noting when they leave. The band is led by Balorix (3HD, Maille, Shield, Battle-Axe, Hand-Axe), his body marked with the pre-Roman scars of kingship. He allows only Gallum to be spoken within the camp. Threaded into his beard are the knucklebones of Franks dead by his hand, whether by murder or combat. Any discovering the camp are hounded by 16 riders - they cannot risk being discovered after working for so long to assemble this force. Any signing up to aid their campaign can only expect payment after some initial successes. For Balorix, nothing is off the table in the pursuit of liberation.
The band has 20 horses, with their owners fighting as Horsemen. 25 of their number are footmen, 10 armoured footmen and the remaining 32 are skirmishers. All are committed to their cause - adding +2 to Morale. Many are anti-clerical, but all have a healthy fear of sorcery.
Balorix’s warchest is nearly empty, reduced to 300sp - the time to strike is soon.
A tent of hide is guarded poorly by a single donkey. Within is Ressilla (2HD, Knife), still wearing the habit of the nunnery she fled. She is able to cast Darkness and Sleep 1/day, but has no knowledge of how. She keeps these secret until she trusts any group she falls in with.
Any hounds within the party sprint away, called by some unseen master. Followed, all of them dig at a small barrow, tearing up the soil. Within is a mummified dog, nearly as big as a pony. Once this is excavated, all the living dogs lie down flat, ears pinned to the backs of their skulls. Revivified with the blood of a man or horse, this gigantic dog has 3HD and unswerving loyalty. It is jealous - permitting no other hound to serve the same master.
Crosses hang from every windowsill and door-frame. The 58 of Agendincum are gripped in a fear - 8 of their neighbours and siblings have disappeared whilst working the fields to the south-west. Any trying to speak of something else find themselves inevitably drifting back to it.
Vebro (2HD, Leather, Shield, Spear) wishes to lead some of the village to find whatever ails them and slay it. The idea of an outsider solving the problem irks him - yet much else of the village pleads with any and all to aid them. They have some wealth - 217sp, scraped together from coinpurses and a few rings and necklaces.
6 footmen, 8 skirmishers.
26 Bandits guard the road, collecting a toll (5sp a head, 10sp per beast) from those passing either direction. They are lead by Tietza (3HD, Maille, Warhammer) the daughter of Ouus. She is unaware that 8 of her troop have been replaced by Doppelgangers. They are waiting for something more interesting to present itself, busying themselves with idle cruelties and misdirections within the camp.
If they spot a clearly superior force, the band retreats into the scant thickets of trees, hiding beneath green blankets. 20 wear leather, carrying bows and spears. 6 wear Maille, carrying javelins, shields and swords.
Their toll is buried in the woods - the Doppelgangers secretly moving it to a separate location. In 3 days, this will be discovered, and the entire band will dissolve into accusations and bloodshed.
Those items from the stash marked with † are hidden in a second location (Bandit II):
Despite its small size, much of Turones is built of old stone stacked against invasion by sea and land. The centre of the village is a bridge over a wide, slow river winding towards the sea. Amongst the bustle of fishing and sailmaking, a centre of quiet - the Abbey of St. Loup. 90 souls live in close proximity, pressed against the stones.
Those approaching from the East are required to recite a prayer, proving they are not heathen Belgae. Those unable or unwilling are driven off with missile weapons.
Dreux (2HD, Leather, Sling, Battle-Axe) nominally leads the 51 of Turones in secular matters. In all things he defers to Abbess Rinilda (1HD), who has held her position for 45 years. She remembers when Frankia was one beneath Charlemagne, although she has little time to spare for remembering. The 12 nuns of the abbey toil for the surrounding communities and lead many religious services. The Abbess is concerned at her incenses and scripture not yet arriving from Remus - those asking to help are instructed to find them. If she learns of any killing in their acquisition, she refuses the goods and banishes such murderers from Turones, using Dreux as a mouthpiece. She has no qualms about the killing of heathens.
21 footmen, 8 skirmishers plus 3 fishing boats.
A bull, eyes bright with hate, rampages throughout the fields here, horns already gore-stained. Peasants try and recover their friend - the bull guards his broken form. Some already call it the ‘Devil Bull’.
It has just learnt how to feed on stories, though none are told yet. It will rampage and leave survivors to grow its legend - and thereby its size.
HD 5 / AC as Leather / Damage 1d6 / Double damage on a charge.
A ditch, filled with bramble, stretches out either side of the road. Upon the road, a crumbled square building of stone. At night, those camping near the tower might hear the distant marching of feet.
A pigsty now hosts 5 Gnolls, four dressed in the garb of peasants. They took the mask as liberation, only to found themselves bound to the armoured liar who offered them such freedom. She is wrapped with bladed rings of steel, voice like poured syrup. Under cover of night, she bids them find their fellow labourers and bring them here. Each night, another d4 take the mask. Once 20 such followers are gathered, they are lead West, finding weapons along the way. The leader seeks the Deathless.
The armour protects as Maille. Those making strikes may either strike cautiously, taking -2 to hit or take 1d3 damage from the cutting blades.
Forsaken by the roads, the 44 people remaining in Ruscino go about their lives - their herds of cattle and graze richly upon the grasses, tended by the elderly and their grand-daughters. Despite the health of their herds, their supplies run low - much is being sent north to a self-made indigenous king. Many homes stand empty, the men away and preparing to fight.
Velugnius (1HD) is one of the few in the settlement who does not support Balorix. Foolishly, he made this known generally, and is too afraid for his life to warn anyone. Instead he sits within his home, family gathered close. His son is a notable absence. None address it.
None.
Amongst the fields and sheds and winding lanes between them, something stalks. As the ploughs break the land, they disturb that which lies beneath the rich soil.
A Wraith, wielding a ghostly axe of stone, haunts the entire hex. It kills individual farmhands and animals. Its thralls drag the bodies beneath the ground. 8 Zombies and 4 Zombie Cows churn the earth as worms. During the day, they reach up and drag down those who would not be missed. They burrow slowly, open mouths filled with earth, eyes coated with soil.
The walled town of Bribracte sprawls, swallowing the roads and river with gates and passages and buildings. Beyond the outskirts a cloak of farms, peasants and animals. Within are cloistered traders, merchants, mercenaries and the relatives of the King. 375 call it home, proud of their walls and stone buildings and keen to display their hospitality. Many of the merchants speak Istavaeonic as well as Gallum, keen to take on the mantle of nobility.
Proclamator Giso (4HD, Full Length Maille, Two-Handed Sword), son of Bovo, rules the town for his father. A stumbling child, he is determined to be a serious and competent man. Much of the Frankish nobility have little love for him, but the peasantry generally support him. Amongst them, he distributes wealth in return for information - little occurs in the streets of Bibracte without Giso knowing of it. He currently consults with the bishop, Orderic (1HD), about stories he hears of a haunting to the north. Orderic considers it an idle peasant superstition.
In the alehouses, a band of 10 warriors seek a trader who never turned up. Amongst crates of unremarkable hides was hidden gold bound to their employer, Lady Ingeltrudis. They are split in whether to keep the loot for themselves or make good on the delivery - once they find the ingots. In 5 days, they will discover the bandits in 37.25, following the trail from there. All have horses, maille, swords, shields and javelins.
15 horsemen, 15 armoured footmen, 20 footmen, 20 skirmishers.
Amongst the trees, a long-collapsed house of stone slowly returns to the earth. Arrowheads are scattered amongst the ruin, as are human bones.
Uist (2HD, Leather, Spear, Bow) wades into the river, his clothes and possessions left on the shore. In Pictish or passable Latin, he explains he saw a coin at the bottom of the river. Allowed to continue, he dives before emerging with a single Doubleface Drachm (&T). Whilst drying himself, he explains he collects these strange coins - having found 72 so far. Uninterested in wealth, he is happy to pool his collection with others seeking the mystery of the coins. He has determined that they might form a map.
Uist knows of Ermelandus, and will warn any travelling with him of his treacherous ways.
Upon the forked river sits Remus, heavy of smoke and bridge. 3418 call her home, filling the storied streets. Sea-vessels filled with raiders sail up the wide river, blood-earned treasure purchasing the wealth of the interior. The soldiers of Bovo watch these boats carefully - some have tried to add Remus to their conquests before. More often they are fined for using the old name of the city, Aquisgra - outlawed with the change to Remus.
From the castle-court of King Bovo (5HD, Full Length Maille, Two-Handed Axe) descend iron-masked warriors accompanied by Proclamators - those given special privilege to read and carry out the will of Bovo. The court swells with bands of treasure-hunters seeking to sell their Roman artefacts, feasting and drinking - unaware that the clerks add such expenses to debts owed and repayable with yet more Roman wealth. Proclamator Antius (1HD) watches these groups - those showing professionalism invited for interview with King Bovo himself. Those so honoured are instructed to steal the body of Charlemagne from ‘Prince Cheldrick’ and return it here, the rightful seat of power in all Frankia. This is not a request - those shirking this duty outlawed from Bovo’s lands.
Ouus (3HD, Maille, Two-Handed Sword), a member of the court, frets about his runaway daughter, Tietza. To those who seem capable and discrete, he offers 1500sp for her safe return. This done, he also offers her hand in marriage - better to make her someone else’s problem, as far as Ouus is concerned. This offer is a package - he will not give the money without the forced marriage. This undertaking requires absolute secrecy and no harm to his daughter - those breaking either condition making a powerful enemy.
Where the river forks a church emerges from the ruins of a pagan temple. These waters were known to be the domicile of a healing spirit, visited by the sick and dying. The temple was burnt down and a church built to celebrate Saint Timotius, who martyred himself casting out the sick from the false ‘healing waters’. Such sacrifice caused the waters to be blessed - gaining the power to heal the faithful. Those resting in the baths beneath the church (after a donation of 20sp) heal at double the normal rate. Those so doing have dreams of huge fires consuming fields of horses and cattle, the animals screaming. The smoke and sky form a huge, hungry mouth. None of the priests acknowledge these dreams.
230 footmen, 100 armoured footmen, 170 skirmishers, 150 horsemen.
Upon the crossroads is Gergovia, wrapped in a palisade of sharpened stakes. To the south looms Amorica, though few of the 45 in the village wish to acknowledge it with even a glance. The gates do not open for any not bearing evidence of allegiance to the King - things wearing the shapes of men have crawled from the forest before, stealing away children from the village.
Broccan (3HD, Maille, Bow, Spear) is popular for his strict policies allowing exit and entrance from Gergovia. He does not know a Doppelganger already lurks amongst them, awaiting a group to be allowed entrance before sowing terror within the village. It begins by killing Broccan. Currently it wears the face of Leucus, a hunter, and wields his bow.
8 footmen 10 skirmishers.
The pastures surrounding Narbo Martius have high, strong fences. A few of the youths patrol on horseback, watching for potential escapees - many of their animals seek to flee south, hiding in Amorica where they will never be recovered. All 79 of the village pay dearly for nails and fencers.
Ailbe (2HD, Leather, Sword, Shield, Javelin) watches her sons closely - both ache to break tradition and head into Amorica. Their wanderlust is inflamed by Etain (2HD, Leather, Bow, Battleaxe) - a hunter who operates in the storied forest. For 10sp a day, he can act as a guide, reducing the chances of being lost to 1-in-6 a day.
14 skirmishers.
A farmhouse, burnt down in malice by a son passed over for a nephew. The remains seem to stubbornly resist the weather, ash and charcoal resting like geographical features.
Upon the river shore, a blade of greenish-black metal. From the handle protrudes a textured tendril of rubber which connects to the base of the blade - beside it is a carved eye. When the eye is depressed, the blade emits a buzzing sound and ignores armour. If pressed again, the buzzing ceases. Each time it is de-activated, there is a 1-in-20 chance is never turns on once more.
Sunken into the river bed is a capsule of silvered material which does not corrode. It contains a wafer-thin gem which, when light is channelled through it, projects a map showing a vastly different world. Highlighted are two islands, both since consumed by the sea.
A narrow bridge of stone and earth extends over the river. Beneath it, nibbled by fish, dwells a single Troll. Ear pressed to the bridge, it listens for groups of less than 6, demanding food from them. Single travellers are attacked, killed and eaten. It is able to speak, but unable to use tools.
The bitter soil of Bibrax yields only withered stalks. Animals pastured upon it vomit greenish jelly and perish. 3 remain in the village, unwilling to leave despite the cursed earth.
Sucaria (1HD, Knife) raised two generations - both now vanished or buried. She has nothing to flee to, and so remains in the living corpse of Bibrax.
Beneath the trees the road rolls, fringes ever overgrown with creeping ferns. Amongst them, a corpse - weeks old, face destroyed with an edged weapon. Their belongings; 12 broken arrows, a single Double-Face Drachm (&T) and a wineskin.
The body is uneaten by animals.
Amongst the trees burn small fires with little smoke. Around them huddle houses, and within those dwell 95 Lizardfolk. No malice dwells within their hearts - they have not eaten enough human flesh to gain that quality. At night they move to the forest’s edge and watch the people of Gergovia and Narbo Martius. For now they bide their time, eating only those that wander into Amorica.
All carry knives.
Half-buried in the road is a pewter charm of a winged penis. The leather thong has long since rotted away.
The trees shift and conspire here, opening false branches and turns in the road. The chance of becoming lost here is 3-in-6.
Palisade walls bristle, hung with ropes and gibbets and nooses. Watchtowers stand proud of the walls, but are still diminished by the trees stretching all around. 99 dwell within Samarobriva, but none by choice. 60 are prisoners, ankles chained together and foreheads branded with the crown of Bovo. The other 39 are soldiers, similarly posted here for misdeeds elsewhere. The prisoners cut wood whilst the soldiers nominally stop escape. Amorica is the true warden.
Proclamator Thankmar (3HD, Maille, Sword, Shield, Handaxe) hides within his faux-keep. He spends much of the day in drink, hiding from the failure that led to this posting. The soldiers claim he has taken a swine for a wife - it is true a preponderance of pigs dwell within Samarobriva.
20 footmen, 19 skirmishers.
The 79 of Crociatonum dwell in shadows cast by Amorica and the Fliukkaborst. Little offers them respite as they hunt and gather beneath the trees. Once a month, bandits from the mountains (27.28) descend and press upon their meagre supplies. The messengers sent north-east never return. The bandits have nothing to do with this.
Danu (2HD, Leather, Bow, Battleaxe) has lost two sons and a husband to the twin perils threatening Crociatonum. Fatalism consumes her, yet she refuses to let Amorica take her. Some worm of pride coils still in her chest.
4 footmen, 12 skirmishers.
Old stone blends with new to make the fort of Buskeriabast, besieged on all fronts by the clamouring of Amorica. Within the wall are 90 soldiers - all wish they were elsewhere. Rarely do they creep forth, weary of ambushes by the living strangeness of the forest.
Lady Ingeltrudis (4HD, Full Length Maille, Sword, Shield) commands the fort with an iron fist. For her unwavering service, she is rewarded richly by King Bovo yet ever hungers for more. Currently she is sleepless - a shipment of gold ingots, untaxed, was due weeks ago. She has already hired mercenaries to discover where it has ended up, and will happily hire more if they present themselves - 200sp a head to one who finds the shipment. Unless pressed she does not tell of the contents. Amongst the soldiers she is popular as a protective and fierce captain, but her discipline has lead to deaths in the past.
In the stable, a huge pair of huge white warhorses are given healthy respect by the other mounts. Britt and Bittr, they are the personal mounts of Lady Ingeltrudis. To foreign warlords, they are worth 800sp each. To a lord of West Frankia, 1200sp.
35 footmen, 35 armoured footmen, 40 skirmishers, 15 horsemen.
Empty homes outnumber the living occupants - 19 - of Ratumacos. The borderland, it is an end to kingly ambition in the face of untamed and unknown arboreal depths. The road beyond it fades to nothing - the claim to the lands around it empty. Those still living here are paid to do so. Each still plans to leave within the year, letting the vines come and crush their homes forever. They have not noticed the disappearance of 4 of their number - most keep to themselves.
None claims to lead or represent this sad hamlet.
Those travelling through this hex find it especially forested, the sky entirely hidden behind the canopy. They are imperceptibly transported to 23.32, continuing in their original direction of travel.
Beneath the river waters stirs an immense bulk. A blunt arrow-head and bulging eyes front a soft, rubbery body. Larger than a horse, Thutaleccon the giant newt guards her brood.
The first story of Thutaleccon is that she must water her eggs with blood. Preferably that of men, but horses are acceptable, or so the story goes.
The second story of Thutaleccon is that she tried to swallow the moon. Impressed with her attitude, the moon gave her a spell of regeneration, or so the story goes.
The third story of Thutaleccon is that she grew lonely with her clutch of unhatched eggs. She bit off her tail to have a friend, and was overjoyed that she grew another, or so the story goes.
10 HD / AC as Leather / Damage 1d6+3 / Heals 1d6+2 damage each round.
Those hexes marked with † are not part of Amorica proper.
A tree, scarred and blackened by lightning, stands alone amidst a clearing, as if the forest recoiled. Charcoal from this tree acts as a Ward, adding +3 to Warding saves.
Where animals paths are hidden beneath the undergrowth and sunlight a rare commodity dwell 24 Elves, conversant with the beasts of the forest. Each has forgotten human tongues - hearing the languages of man drives them wild, causing them to attack without hesitation and add +1 to damage. 9 carry bows and arrows of flint, the rest axes of antler or stone - all are at -1 to hit. None wear armour nor clothes -their bodies cut and cut again by branch and thorn.
They dwell around a old badger burrow, from which each in turn crawled forth. They expect another to join them soon. The skull of a badger is mounted upon a stake above the burrow.
A magnificent deer tries to lead travellers astray, leading them towards 38.29. All missile attacks against it are at -7. If it is killed, the Elves discover the body in d6 days and begin tracking the killers.
Saplings wither and die upon the flanks of the hills here, the valleys filled with leafless trunks. Ridges of stone emerge from the top of the hills like spines showing through skin.
A rough hut of wood stands proud of the naked hills around it. Within dwells Bergljót (4HD, Two-Handed Axe), a hulking woman who speaks Norse and a little Latin. She has mastered her axe, no longer taking an AC penalty for using it. To one presenting 20 human heads, or the head of a sea-beast, she teaches her technique over a gruelling week of punishing lessons and mock-battles. Within her home she keeps 35 polished skulls and a Bible.
A defensive camp, smokeless, contains 18 Skeletons in Banded Armour (Medium) with square shields, swords and javelins. One still bears a standard depicting a bull upon a red field. They are led by Myron Aristeides, a Vampire still dressed as a centurion. He speaks Greek and Latin, and seeks to kill Tullus Nasennius Augurius. This feud has been carried out for centuries, owing to a betrayal over military commission before the Empire fell.
Myron cannot stand the sun, mead or ale. He cannot enter a domicile without permission, but is happy to order his troops to do so. To those who seem useful, he offers employment - a Victory Aureus (&T) a day to those aiding his vendetta. He has 800 of these coins in a chest guarded closely by his soldiers. Amongst the camp, terrified out of her wits, is Euphemia (1HD) - a translator from Byzantium, able to speak Latin, Greek, Norse, Istvaeonic and Brythonic. If called upon to translate, she slips in pleas for freedom.
Myron has learnt Fireball and Stone to Flesh from the Child of Stone, but has no material components.
The remaining wealth of Myron (Monstrous IV):
Those travelling through this hex find it especially forested, the sky entirely hidden behind the canopy. They are imperceptibly transported to 22.29, continuing in their original direction of travel.
Amongst the trees thread paths walked since before legions marched north. They have been tread by wolves and by men who would be wolves. In the depths of Amorica, this pack makes their den, long grown strong on stories and fear. Even the now-crumbling capitals of empire have stories of Carnifex the Giant Wolf.
The first story of Carnifex is that he tore a chunk from the night sky, gaining his colouration and letting the moon shine through - or so the story goes.
The second story of Carnifex is that he long ago ate all he could bear - every kill is out of malice or boredom, or so the story goes.
The third story of Carnifex is that he shares his pack with no wolf - only man bears the cruelty that sustains Carnifex, or so the story goes.
The fourth story of Carnifex is that he is the reason for Amorica - his will alone creating a hunting ground for him and his adopted pack, or so the story goes.
The den of Carnifex is a ruined square fort of stone, strewn with gnawed bones. It stands amidst the trees in forest gloom. Carnifex is accompanied by 32 gore-stained humans. They are all unarmoured, with 19 carrying swords and 13 spears. All have forgotten human tongues, wearing nothing but the skins of of human and animal alike. There is a 30% chance the pack in their den, returning in d8 days if not.
The pelt of Carnifex protects as Maille, but weighs as much as Leather. The pelt provides enough to armour 3 men - those with 2HD or less must test Morale to approach such figures. The head of Carnifex can be used to cast Fear once a week. The bearer is attacked by all animals, domesticated or wild.
HD 13 / AC as Maille / Damage 1d6+4 / Immune to Normal Missiles.
Hidden from the river by the density of trees, a 12x12 grid of standing stones, each standing at least 6’ tall. Weather has rounded them, leaving each with an egg-like shape. To the south, a 35’ tall hill stands, edges still sharp even as the crest is now crowned by trees.
Buried within this tumulus is a large burial chamber. It contains nine pots, each containing a mix of snake, eagle and wolf bones. These pots surround a large crystal coffin, within which a preserved corpse lies, still wearing a pure-white garment. The corpse is heavily tattooed with animal designs in a cascade of predation. The left hand holds a bronze sword, whilst the left a body-length staff carved with crosses and stars. Upon each finger is a ring with a precious stone, each rounded and smoothed.
The sword has a pair of long, curled protuberances emerging from the bottom of the hilt. Wielded in a storm, lightning continually strikes these antenna, empowering the blade to deal an additional 2d6 of damage. Such a charge lasts 12 hours after the storm.
The staff is worth 800sp, and the rings 10000sp total.
It would take a single person 12 days to excavate the tumulus enough to access the burial chamber. When the crystal coffin is disturbed, the 144 standing stones animate - half collapsing immediately, the other 72 fighting as Living Statues. Any who have touched the coffin - or its contents - are hunted. They move slowly, covering but 1 hex a day. They are able to walk along the sea-bed, although at the rate of 1 hex every 2 days.
All the trees here grow towards the south-east, as if bowing at court.
An Earth-Elemental roams blearily, unaware and slow to react. It crushes trees and hill alike. What dreams compel soil to walk the land?
Near the river, the thick forestation breaks apart to reveal devastation. A town reduced by fire and time, vegetation scant amongst the rubble. Towards the centre, some buildings still stand. At night, they crawl with life - the descendants of those who did not abandon the town when the order came.
Per Turn spent here at night, consult the encounter chart:
| 1d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-10 | 2d6 Goblins with clubs and slings, unaffiliated. |
| 11-20 | 2d6 Goblins with spears and javelins, allied with Kicero. |
| 21-30 | 2d6 Goblins with swords, shields and Light Armour, serving King Imperator. |
| 31+ | No Encounter. |
Unaffiliated Goblins wear the furs and pelts of rodents and small mammals, sewn together. Those allied with Kicero wear rags, their weapons bent and nicked. Those serving King Imperator wear armour made from rent maille, draped over small, emaciated forms. All speak a unique dialect of Latin.
Descriptions below assume day-time exploration. At night, all are awake and actively guarding their buildings.
1
This ruined tenement stands 3 stories tall, the walls gouged and scorched. It surrounds a central courtyard, all of the rooms looking down into it. 28 Goblins, unaffiliated, dwell here amongst the wreckage. 6 of them tend a beehive on the upper floor, unstung by the bees.
2
8 feral dogs dwell amongst the ruins of a shop, resting when not hunting the Goblins. The leader of the pack has one eye and many scars - attacks against her are at -2. She knows the bite of iron and is keen to avoid it again. Above the ground floor, accessible by ladder, several rooms filled with ruined fabrics and furniture.
3
The doors to this stone building show signs of maintenance. Within, 16 Goblins rest in a golden bowl held by a 10’ statue of bronze, depicting a pregnant woman with a warm smile. Those dwelling here defend the statue with their lives. The bowl, heavy enough to burden a horse, is worth 6000sp - 9000sp to a collector of Roman artefacts. The statue, requiring a team of 2 horses, a cart and a stable road, is worth 11000sp. Only a collector of Roman artefacts would purchase such a thing.
4
A burnt out shell of a building with the roof miraculously surviving. If entered, there is a 1-in-6 chance of the roof collapsing, killing any within.
5
This wide building has a large dome upon the ceiling, filled with small holes which now act as nests for wood pigeons. The northern and southern doors are barricaded from the inside. Within, this bath-house remains mostly intact. 16 Goblins, sworn to Imperator Rex, sleep within the long-dry warm bath. They have the usual armour, swords and shields.
6
Destroyed tablets and scrolls fill the rooms of this small, sturdily-built structure. Beneath the layers of bureaucratic residuum, a trap-door allows access to a basement. 12 Zombies rot quietly there - when the trap-door is opened, they rush out and begin hunting the Goblins. The basement also contains corroded ritual implements and several glass vials:
On the floor are several grimoires, the pages and covered chewed to illegibility.
7
A large villa consisting of a 10’ wall surrounding several smaller buildings.
7a
A gatehouse, complete with metal bars restricting access and only opened from within. 5 Goblins, sworn to Imperator Rex, guard this gate day and night. Those asking for an audience must present themselves as courteous and self-effacing.
7b
The courtyard of the villa, filled with massively overgrown garden plants and gnawed bones.
7c
An open-front stable, where 21 loyal servants of Imperator Rex dwell, sleeping in large piles. Each hopes to be invited in to the main building rather than bedding on this mouldy straw.
7d
The main building of the villa is stained with blood and choked with debris. Amongst this are 10 Goblins, wearing Maille and wielding Warhammers. They act as a personal guard to Imperator Rex. He wears a circlet of gold as a necklace, trailing a cape made of a silk robe. He stands nearly 5’ tall, and has 3HD. He desires the submission of all in the settlement - promising those serving his whims knighthoods and privileges unheard of. This mostly consists of fistfuls of gold and silver jewellery, all of which is stashed amongst the chaos of the villa. Searching the entire villa would take a full day and turn up 7859sp worth of jewellery and small Roman coins.
Imperator Rex asks for the following, in order:
8
Amongst the chaos of mouldering furniture and sagging ceilings dense with mould, 3 heavy chests sit undisturbed. Each contains rich fabrics, untouched by time. The contents of each chest takes up 5 inventory slots, and is worth 600sp , or 800sp to a collector of Roman artefacts.
9
A cold animal stink permeates this building, the floor covered in torn and soiled rags. Nothing dwells here currently.
10
This section of the building is a dense maze of small rooms, all interconnected and all empty but for rat-snares. One has a live rat struggling within it.
11
8 Goblins dwell here, each wearing a cloak of feathers. Around them are small traps of wood, designed to catch birds. A half-eaten crow congeals in the corner.
12
This section of the terrace has collapsed in upon itself, leaving only rubble.
13
Cunningly hidden beneath stone-coloured cloaks slumber 5 Goblins, sworn to Kicero. At night, they cautiously watch the street, a runner reporting in to Kicero as the sun begins to dawn.
14
A fire recently consumed this building, leaving only scorched stone and charcoal.
15
This crumbling shell of a building does not even offer protection from the rain. Rats nest amongst the debris inside.
16
This tower is in good repair and at odds with the square structures making up the rest of the town. Narrow slit-windows spiral upwards. The door is always locked. If knocked upon, a human voice answers in Brythonic, asking after the business of visitors. Those claiming to look for work are welcomed in by Tewdrig (2HD, Maille, Sword). He does not permit visitors to enter the upper floors of the tower. He offers the ‘reward of great knowledge’ to those able to drive out all of the Goblins, though he does not explain why. If pressed, he does divulge he is here for research which cannot be conducted with such hostile neighbours - and he has no interest in dealing with such creatures as equals.
To those able to complete this task, he teaches all of the Cure spells, Colour Spray, Fear and Haste. He also shares his knowledge of Wards: Betony, eaten at dusk, protects against magic during the night and a paste of Rowan berries smeared on a shield protects as long as the paste stays moist.
The upper floors of the tower contain Tewdrig’s living quarters and the preserved corpse of a woman he hopes to restore to life in a bid to earn her love. She is not the first to be exhumed and experimented upon in this goal.
Additionally, Tewdrig has (Magic User II):
17
The floor of this building has been undermined and left flimsy - if supporting more than a single person’s weight, it falls in, revealing a 25’ pit carved laboriously from the earth and stone. Each night, 10 Goblins allied with Kicero check this pit.
18
The lower floor of this two-storey home is a jumbled mess of sharp broken wood - those picking through without metallic armour taking 1 point of damage. On the second floor slumber 13 Goblins. At night they peer from shutterless windows, reporting their findings back to Kicero. They pay special attention to 7, 17 and 19.
19
The door to this heavy, squat building is barricaded. Within are 9 Goblins, sworn to Imperator Rex. Between them they carry 308 Victory Aureus (&T). They have been trapped here for days - a corpse of their number is slowly being eaten.
20
The walls of this building surround only a single room, filled with human bones.
21
The floor of this building has fallen in due to heavy flooding. A rickety system of planks has been established, allowing dangerous crossings. The water at the bottom is thick with mud and detritus - those falling are liable to drown without assistance.
22
The exterior of this building appears maintained, recent repairs drying in the sun. Within are chewed rat-corpses and pathways cleared through the omnipresent litter and broken furniture. A doorway hidden on the second floor allows access to 23.
23
An accident of architecture, this strange triangle is accessible only from the adjacent buildings. Within slumber 12 Goblins allied to Kicero, 6 carrying bows. At night, they listen for intruders entering 22.
24
This building is filled with rubble from collapsed interior walls, leaving a chaos requiring careful negotiation.
25
Slumbering bodies fill this chamber - 36 Goblins, affiliated with Kicero but not taking up arms. They form heaps of twitching, dreaming forms, fingers curling and feet kicking.
26
The doors of this single-story building show signs of reinforcement, and are barred from the inside. The interior has a stone floor, broken up by regular pillars. Visible in the gloom are several low, crouched, static figures who do not respond to anything. They are perfect statues of Goblins, although this requires close examination to determine. A Cockatrice is trapped within the building, pacing back and forth.
27
This home, long empty, seems to be in good repair. At night, low moans fill the rooms and hallways, barely audible from outside but near-deafening within. Set into the foundations are bones long denied rest.
28
Small wicker cages line the walls, each containing scarred, vicious rats. Three Goblins, sworn to protect Kicero slumber here. Each has bark armour (as Light) and a Halberd. All have many bite-wounds on their hands and wrists.
29
A recently fallen-in roof renders this building nearly useful. From beneath the rubble, 3 dead Goblins protrude.
30
4 feral dogs, chained to the walls. The chains are just long enough to allow each to reach the centre of the room, where bones and gore accumulate. Such viscera gives no indication as it’s origin.
31
The walls here are dense with carved-in drawings of a single individual, bearing a crown, being attacked, mutilated, drowned, shat on, pissed on, fed to dogs, skewered with spears and roasted on a fire.
32
10 Goblins with bark armour (as light) and Halberds stay awake all day - they guard Kicero, an unassuming one-eyed Goblin carrying only a knife. They lead those who would not bend the knee to Imperator Rex. Kicero asks only that strangers leave - they have no interest in dragging in outside forces. Those who insist upon helping Kicero does not stop - but there is no payment for such duty.
33
The roof is half-crumbled in to this abode. From within, it is obvious why - a marble statue of a heroic nude holds up the ceiling, fortuitously posed to do so. The statue, some 7’ tall, is worth 4000sp - 6000sp to collectors. It is labelled, in Latin, “The Unbroken Gaul”. The figure has a huge moustache, free-flowing hair and pierced nipples. Moving it causes the roof to fall in, killing all within the building and having a 50% chance of destroying the statue.
34
A heavy lead chest lies beneath a heap of 12 sleeping Goblins, allies of Kicero. They will not allow the chest to be opened - it contains a golden laurel, worth 1250sp - 2000sp to a collector. These Goblins are scarred, each adding +2HP.
35
A wooden structure leans perilously to the side. The wet wood rots visibly - a hard kick brings the whole thing down. A rusted axe is nearly in the grass.
36
Nailed to the outside of this building are human skulls, grinning jawlessly. Rust streaks protrude downwards like orange saliva oozing from their mouths.
Those travelling through this hex find it especially forested, the sky entirely hidden behind the canopy. They are imperceptibly transported to 18.32, continuing in their original direction of travel.
Andematunum is hidden amongst the trees, unbetrayed by fields or herds. The 57 dwelling here live easy and peaceful, fed easily on the bounty of Amorica denied so many others. None wish to acknowledge how they purchase this idyll. All speak heavily accented Orleanis alone.
Reticus (3HD, Bow, Dagger) fears the annual ceremony, 2 weeks imminent. He is certain his son, recently married, will be chosen as the next Spouse of the Wood. He knows escape will only be possible if there is a large enough distraction.
10 skirmishers.
Stunted trees still crowd thick and close, forming strange hallways and chambers. Within this timber palace reigns a Dryad, attended to by those bound in marriage. Each year another is brought willingly - there are currently 27. They of the Wood have released some back home, memory filled only with enduring love and blinding pink light.
Those not professing appropriate courtesy are taken by They of the Wood as spouses, to serve til death. Those resistant to the charms are held down and killed by the other Spouses of the Wood. Six of the Spouses carry spears - the rest only knives. For their loyalty, the villagers of Andematunum find the trees generous with fruit and animals walking into the village to be butchered.
Valueless offerings of wooden statuettes and furnishings litter the ‘palace’. The Spouses sleep in a huge heap at the feet of They of the Wood.
Trees crest the mountains as if crushing them down beneath a blanket of green. The soil is tortured, entire root-systems exposed to the air yet clinging on. Amongst this landscape dwells Diviciacus, a dragon, scales stained ever-red with the blood of kin fed to invaders foreign to the forest and vale.
In a cave accessible only to daring mountaineers he slumbers, crown of office reduced to a talon-ring. Beneath him, heaped wealth paid for betrayals and sacrifices - his own brother rendered unto those carrying the imperial yoke. From this cave reeks wine and vinegar.
Any wealth carried into his slumber-chamber awakens him - he sleeps but fitfully. These unfortunates are spared if they surrender all coin and wine carried - else Diviciacus will take it by force, devouring the bodies with a contented sigh.
The hoard of Diviciacus (Special):
12 Ghouls, rotting flesh caked in chalkdust and then painted-over with blue-black whorls, rest amongst the foothills. None wear armour. Their hands are stained with gore. Any bearing chiefly implements of the defeated peoples are respected and allowed to pass - those with Roman artefacts are hunted mercilessly.
3 Ennts dwell here, ever-curious about the doings of man. They send their birds to spy on those travelling here, ascertaining their motives. The Ennts move to kill those who threaten the trees, capture those who make war a profession and leave the rest alone. Those captured they ask for tuition - they would have their branches gore-stained.
A beached whale slowly dies. Those approaching it hear it speaking some language ill-suited to the medium of air - this is a curse upon those who would slaughter it. Any spilling its blood are marked - all whales attack them on-sight forevermore.
Aunios sprawls out into the ocean, hemmed in by its palisade walls and ditches maintained for generations. 65 call it home, living off the sea and their toll upon the road - 5sp a head. Such a toll does not allow access - this requires the relinquishment of weapons. Some of the fishermen speak a smattering of Norse and Istvaeonic.
Orbissa (3HD, Maille, Bow, Sword) sits upon the stone throne of Aunios by right of combat, her predecessor and uncle buried some five years. She is much beloved by the people, her youth and vigour fêted. She brooks no insult to her power - to those showing decorum, she asks for aid. A Belgic Wickerman, sent from parts unknown, guards the road to the south. Her court priest, Ambilli (2HD, Maille, Spear, dedicated to Cernunnos), has been unable to command it away. To those able to destroy it, or drive it away, she offers 1000sp in the bronze coins of The Marches.
Where the jetties lick the sea, a crone, Divogenia (1HD) sleeps in an abandoned cart. Her biting wit and puerile imagination are well-known - her origin a secret. To one who would give her a horse, she acts an advisor. She knows many Wards, but only metes out her knowledge as needed. She knows of Betony, a Chant praising the deeds Ludeks which protects against illusions and mind-affecting magics, Cowslip, the creation of a Gargoyle-charms featuring the face of bearded serpent, Hazel, Hellebore, the skulls of horses, Rosemary, Rue and Yarrow.
10 footmen, 12 skirmishers plus 4 fishing boats.
Vafthrudnir (3HD, Full Length Maille, Sword, Shield), a Norse Christian, makes a small camp with his nephew Hyundi (1HD, Leather, Bow, Battleaxe). He has come here, armed with his Bible, to destroy the dead he has heard wander The Marches as penitence for killing his brother Igur - Hyundi’s father. To those professing Christian faith he accompanies if they swear to help in his mission.
Neither speak a word of Belgic.
The road skirts around the charred remains of a hillfort. Stones, ash and charcoal mix within - bones are entirely absent. No buildings remain standing. The first bright green growths have begun to emerge from the devastation. In a scant few years the entire ruin will be hidden.
Upon the road stands a lone Belgic Wickerman, filled with 6 living souls, screaming for release. The head bears a large, single clay eye. It permits none to pass without an offering - one human, scooped up and placed within its chest to join the chorus. If given Divogenia, it returns to Loukobri, although it does not know her name.
Behind the walls of Ebora, the 107 inhabitants prepare arrows and javelins. They chafe beneath the yoke of Vallus and Derceia, and would make a bid for freedom. Those upon the gates drive away visitors, believing them to be spies from the fort - or liable to sell any information on.
Corbagni (3HD, Maille, Sword, Shield, Bow) is caught between his fear of squandering Ebora’s preparations and losing any potential allies. Those who swear an oath to keep the secrets of Ebora are put to service - either accompanying the boats which will take the children and elderly to Rhus or assisting in the planned assault upon Morobris. They have nothing to pay, but expect spoils from the sack of the fort - or death as free Belgae.
20 footmen, 30 skirmishers plus 20 young footmen who fight at -1 morale, -1 to hit.
The stone walls of Morobris stand defiant against the sea which it surveils, positioned atop a cliff worn with age. Within are 60 warriors, each the veteran of wars fought on behalf of others and assured of their continued victory. All fight with 2HD and an additional +1 to hit. From the walls fly banners of three gold rings, interlocked.
Vallus (3HD, Full Length Maille, Two Handed Axe) in name rules the fort and the surrounding settlements. All know it is Derceia (as Mummy), his ancestor generations removed that they truly respect. She sits behind his throne of sea-polished stone and gives counsel in her foul, rotting breath. She has yet to lead him astray. What most do not know is that Vallus does not know the family-wards that keep the Belgic dead in check. Derceia is unbound, although happy to puppet her descendant for now - she would not risk being hunted like a rabid dog that no longer responds to commands. She wears funeral jewellery of golden hoops, covering much of her body. It is worth 1200sp total.
Vallus aware of all that occurs in his domain but the planned revolt of Ebora. He is not keen to commit troops to any of the villages for worry of leaving himself open to raiders from Noos. This fear is not unfounded. Those offering to serve him are empowered to tend to affairs across his realm with the promise of wealth and reward for those succeeding.
Vallus is not brave enough to ask any to slay Derceia. She would happily have him killed if new pawns, willing to follow orders, presented themselves to her. She the ability to cast the following spells - numbers in parenthesis indicate how many material components she has. Animate Dead (2), Circle of Protection Against Speakers of Belgic (2), Curse (1), Fear, Neutralize Poison (1), Web. She also knows all the Warding properties of blood.
20 footmen, 20 armoured footmen, 20 horsemen.
The southern bridge of Brevis is locked to a standstill, the banks heavy with cheering crowds. Youths wrestle one another, the vanquished thrown into the river for a humiliating swim. The victors will battle one another until only 6 remain - these unfortunates delivered to Conconnetodummus. If they are fortunate, they will die - the others filled with glass and set to maraud across the Marches.
Suratus (2HD, Bow) has appealed to Vallus to drive off the Trolls with force of arms. Derceia has advised him not to, and so the best of Brevis are bound for destruction. Some cheer that their old ways still hold, and that Belgic peoples will never see foreign yoke. Others wonder at what cost. Suratus has counted themselves amongst both groups.
12 footmen, 13 skirmishers plus 4 fishing boats.
Between the thickets and low trees caper 7 figures, their heads weighed down by branches worn like antlers. Each is nude, carrying large lumps of bloody flint. They are lost in a divine madness, each believing themselves to be Cernunnos, the Antlered God. They fight as Druids under the effect of Haste. It is said Cernunnos smiles upon such devotion.
Boar race one another up the road and back down it, their sounders gathering like cheering crowds. If disturbed, all flee to the treeline, squealing.
Only 22 remain within the walls of Cambetum, the hollow shells of houses standing as graves to those consumed by the Drowning Madness - one by one dropping into the river and refusing to come up for air. Many families have one or two relatives trapped indoors, waiting their chance to make a run for the river.
Vertos (3HD, Maille, Two Handed Sword) plans to appease the gods to lift this curse. He has captured Litgenus (1HD), a farmer from Verubri, and plans to sacrifice him through ritualised drowning in the river. He awaits a full moon, when Brigheed is said to be most attentive. The rest of Cambetum backs him - Vallus has done nothing to aid them.
10 footmen, 7 skirmishers.
The bridge over the river, built with stone, has a skeleton set into the mortar, facing south-west. Its forehead is polished smooth - those touching it add +1 to their next roll.
A pillar of flies reveals the location of a fireless, gore-stained camp, the soil and grass black with blood. Here camp 6 Trolls, their leader much storied in Belgic songs - Conconnetodummus, Entrail-Bearded. A ravager of the borders known to eat entire armies planning the conquest of Belgic lands, he has 6HD and deals 2d6 damage. All wear Maille, the fledgling trolls carrying Warhammers. One, Boudinna, retains the ability of speech, acting as a mouthpiece for Conconnetodummus. She is happy to have found him.
They await young hopefuls from Brevis to test, the failures set to be consumed.
Any able to best Conconnetodummus in single combat, but sparing his life, is entitled to his hoard gathered over the long centuries (Monstrous IV):
Facing towards the sea, a small shrine cunningly disguised as a mere boulder. It depicts a cycle of men emerging and returning to the sea, growing fins and cavorting with aquatic beasts.
46 Noosfolk now dwell in the walls of Belgic design. They found the village empty, the boats up on the shore, fires unlit. For a year now they have dwelt upon Pyorra, acting as a base for raids against the country.
Mijararos (3HD, Noos Sickle, Noos Maille, Shield) commands this force. He is happy to trade with those who would risk capture - speaking through Frode (2HD), a Norseman able to speak Noos, Norse, Belgic and Istvaeonic. He does not serve willingly.
Each night, 3d20 Merfolk gather in the waves. If there are ever more than 50 on one night, they assault their erstwhile home, carrying shields of shell, shark-toothed clubs (as swords) and javelins harvested from some unknown toothed beast of the depths.
21 armoured footmen, 25 skirmishers, 2 small Noos Galleys plus 3 fishing boats.
Walls of stone floated across the coast make up the walls of Brigantia, home to 97. Travel upon the road - their road - is subject to a toll of 10sp a head, animals counting as half. Those unwilling to pay are driven into the forests, there to become lost and harried by the creature of those dark wooded realms.
Acedillus (4HD, Full Length Maille, Warhammer) rules Brigantia as his family has done for generations. His ancestors are safely buried in barrows within the walls, awaiting the day they are called upon again. Acedillus looks to Laniobriga, and ponders conquest against the kidnapping Noos - he has 2000sp stashed away for mercenaries.
Attending the court of Acedillus is Nantiorix (2HD), a priestess of Brigheed. Those in her freely-given care heal at twice normal speeds. For those serving Acedillus, she sings a song of steel - weapons rerolling any minimum damage results for a week.
15 footmen, 15 skirmishers.
Here stands an oak, riven in half by lightning, uncharacteristically close to the sea. Beneath it dwells a Wraith, bound by the roots. During storms, it whispers - any placing their right hand within the split wood will be given the power to wield storms. Any doing so have their hand destroyed utterly, but able to cast Lightning Bolt once a day.
Amongst the hills rises huge slabs of stone, arranged in lines and circles. Between them are houses of wattle-and-daub, comically impermanent amongst the stones. Here the priesthood of Cernunnos lead the worship of the protector of Belgic Lands, He Who Commands the Dead. Amongst the 32 Priests (as Druids) are 82 Skeletons and 51 Zombies, all armed with spears, half carrying shields. When not under attack, the dead maintain the temple. Three empty Beglic Wickermen stand ready to be filled with sacrifices.
The Temple has little need of outsiders, though those reporting any imminent threats to Belgic lands are rewarded with d6 Skeletons bound to their service. Beyond the raising and control of the dead, the Temple is aloof from much of the inter-community strife so common in the Marches.
If they are delivered the news that Morobris is under the sway of unbound dead, they offer a bounty of 5000sp for the heads of Vallus and Derceia and a further 3d6 bound Skeletons.
At the centre of the stones, a building of stacked stone houses the treasures of the cult of Cernunnos (Temple III):
Two Ogres rest here, watching the road for victims. One wishes to possess all swords - the other all spears. Each drags a sack of their weapons, swinging them in combat - each makes only one attack per turn, at +3 and against all adjacent creatures. Those struck take 1d6+2 damage and make a Physique save to not be knocked prone.
Upon a bend in the river, where deer-paths converge, is a home of stone bound with ivy and creeping cinquefoil. Within dwells Vocontia (1HD), cared for by her son Ambilli (2HD, Leather, Sword). Both have no loyalty to any lord - scorned and turned upon in every hillfort. Vocontia speaks only in a broken rasp, voice destroyed by smoke inhalation. Ambilli speaks for her, droning trance-like over the intonations of his mother.
For a head taken from a Belgic chief, Vocontia will teach an abjuration of the dead, stolen from the cult of Cernunnos. A potent mix of pregnant mare piss and swine blood is flicked using an oak branch, whilst the lineage of the abjurer is chanted. Belgic undead must make a Warding Save - failure resulting in them fleeing. If the lineage of the dead is chanted instead, they make no save - bound by undying oath to flee.
After this teaching, Vocontia will still hunger for more heads - promising a great reward for 5 more. She has nothing else to teach, only emitting a horrible, tortured laugh at the butchers these fools have become.
The three-ring banner of Vallus flies proud over the 94 of Ontonia. The walls, ancient stone stacked against all comers, let many pass through - the toll only 5sp a head. Within, farmers sell their surplus and watch for children liable to run off with an apple.
Buscilla (3HD, Maille, Sword, Shield), daughter to Vallus, rules Ontonia. Her mother is dead by the deception of Derceia, and she correctly suspects that she is next. She refuses to consider fleeing her lands, but cannot hope to stand against the veterans of Morobris if it came to open conflict.
12 footmen, 15 skirmishers.
Between hills and trees pick 14 Hobgoblins on massive horses. They wear Maille, stained and patched, and carry bows, spears, and swords. They are foraging and scouting - if seeing a group larger than their own, they flee to 51.27. They attempt to capture smaller groups for interrogation. This group speak a mix of Assyrian, Aklashian and Lemur. If left alone, they will eventually spot Brigantia and report it to 51.27.
The smoke of this camp reveal it clearly - dozens of fires streaking into the sky. Here camp a force of Hobgoblins 286 strong, heavy with plunder and prisoners. Their trail of devastation winds away to the East.
Most of them speak archaic lost tongues, instructions passed in mixed tongue of their own invention. Using their 30 prisoners, they are able to translate nearly any tongue, although information is often subtly shifted.
Meshkiangasher leads the force as he has done for millennia, inheriting command over the body of a name lost to time. They have 6HD, and wear a suit of blue-green metal which flexes with their musculature - protecting as Full Length Maille + Shield and adding +2 damage to all attacks. Their huge two-handed sword has removed the heads of many monarchs. Upon a finger crooked they wear The Witness (&T). They campaign to find Noos, having read of it as a colony in ancient records to the south where empires have long crumbled before even Roman tread. In pursuit of this goal nothing is spared.
100 of the Hobgoblins have swords, shields and Maille. A further 100 wear Leather, carrying spears and bows. 86 ride a motley assortment of horses, carrying spears, swords and bows.
Their war-chest is massive, accumulated out of habit and never spent (Monstrous V):
A warren blackened and burnt. Entombed within, 18 hares killed by lightning and untouched by scavengers. A light blue mold settles across their forms.
Standing stock-still and facing the west, bound dead set to ensure the safety of their descendants unseen with eyes long eaten and unfelt with fingers freed from flesh. 11 Skeletons with shields and spears and 10 Zombies with swords are lead by a single Mummy, who waits in the shade of a tree. They are named Cotis, son of Itosius and Dannia. Those bearing heirlooms of this family are allowed to pass.
The shields of the skeletons are marked with a whorl pattern, as if pressed upon by an immense paint-coated thumb.
The walls of Verubri, stone earth and wood, have seen many sieges through safely. 354 dwell within them with their animals and children, tending to the fields and paddocks stretching all around it - a sole hill, wide and flat, surrounded by the drained and cultivated soil of agriculture.
Arimanus (2HD, Full Length Maille, Two Handed Sword) ponders his mortality atop a throne held against all comers. Some part of him feels it better to have died in battle than face this slow decay. During these brooding hours, his son, Perus (3HD, Maille, Battleaxe, Javelin, Shield) attends to court matters, and of late these hours are long - stretching into months. He is cautious and unwilling to risk his throne. Such hesitancy will undo his claims in time. The family of Litgenus beg him to rescue their father from Cambetum - Perus is unwilling to risk war against Vallus. His father, if informed, rides out immediately.
In the streets, Saglia (2HD, Leather, Longbow) seeks mercenaries. Her brothers lay dead in the farm they worked for years, now occupied by the killers, 13 in number. To those helping she offers unswerving fealty as a bondswoman. The farm is in 44.29. If she spots Dattovir, she attempts to hide - explaining he is one of the killers if pressed. They have the same nose.
20 footmen, 20 skirmishers, 20 horsemen.
The gates of Glandomirum are closed. Upon them in red paint are Belgic words: “And we heard the word yet it fell silent and pinned and with the physical. It was within us and without us it would be forever quiet.” No sound emanates from within the village.
Those scaling the walls find devastation within them - much of the village has been torn apart, illegible writing scrawled everywhere. Animals with their throats torn out litter the road, horses commingling their blood with swine and hounds. Above them are strung up human bodies, tongues and ears removed, huge nails driven in to each ear canal.
Within the homes lurk the 71 of Glandomirum, each bearing the Words in the forefront of their minds. Those without the Words within them can only be viewed as hostile and alien, to be driven out with violence if they do not accept the Words when spoken aloud. Within the ruined home of the chief, a book containing The Words of Ludeks, written in Belgic, is hidden amongst the collapsed roof. Any Belgic speaker reading or hearing The Words must make a Warding save or succumb to this madness too.
Of the 71, 10 wear Leather whilst 5 wear Maille. Those with armour carry swords - the rest have knives or clubs or twist their fingers into claws, broken and gore-stained.
The deer here are unafraid of men. Hunters are charged - the deer having 1HD, stags having +2 to hit. Beneath the river silt, the bones of a stag and a drowned man are buried together as if embracing.
The walls of Loukobri still bleed sap, many homes still under construction. Built upon the burnt-down ruins of the homes here before, 180 try to break the curse that has befell all settlements founded where the bridge goes over the river fork.
The bridge is made of perfectly-fitted stone - or some say one single slab, carved by giants. No tool marks can be found, only the wear that time brings to bear on such monuments.
Carix (3HD, Maille, Mace, Shield) hopes to lead this fresh settlement of the dispossessed to prosperity, claiming a 15sp tax on all wishing to use the bridge that predates memory. Those who threaten his authority or the safety of the burgeoning town are dealt with swiftly. He is a secret Christian, but not even Karina (2HD, Longbow) his wife, knows it.
In the streets, Dattovir (2HD, Maille, Sword) seeks mercenaries. His brothers lay dead in the farm they worked for years, now occupied by the killers, 13 in number. To those helping he offers three warhorses, currently held by the killers. The farm is in 44.29. If he spots Saglia, he attempts to hide - explaining she is one of the killers if pressed. They have the same nose.
12 footmen, 35 skirmishers.
Set back from the road, enmeshed in the trees is Dubris, a fort of black stone and grim rumour. It consists of a single black tower, the door of wood. During the day, no guard watches the gate or hails from the scant windows. At night, shrieks and howls and cold sea-foam laughter emanate. None hailing from The Marches will approach the tower.
The gate, locked solid, requires a battering ram and 50 combined Strength to break down. Within, a legion of shadow boils and roils - 45 Wraiths bearing knives of old iron, unwilling to risk the sun but eager for the strength of the living. Amongst them another 45 Skeletons, bound in death to serve. They pin victims down whilst their masters rend them apart. If the doors are destroyed, Albic descends to join the fray.
Above this chaos is Albic (6HD, Quarterstaff), an ancient sorcerer heavily warded against physical harm - all strikes against them are at -9. His physical form has shifted, his upper body sinuous, held low like a lizard. From this tower they ponder the stars and the realms beyond them, letting alien knowledge and light pour into his skull. His gaze is terrible - those affixed with it must make a Warding Save or be transfixed, unable to move for 1 round per point the Save was failed by. NPCs passing this save must test Morale to not flee before him.
He the ability to cast the following spells - numbers in parenthesis indicate how many material components he has, and those marked with † he can cast once day. Baleful Polymorph (1), Charm Person†, Colour Spray†, Confusion(1), Cure Critical Wounds (1), Darkness (2), Disintegrate (1), Fear†, Fireball (1), Phantasm †.
The top floor of the tower hosts a huge telescope made of blue-green metal, the controls set too far forward for easy human usage. It is incalculably valuable and extremely delicate.
A dying Hobgoblin sits by a tree, too weak to fight any longer. They have only laughter to offer, pointing towards the army in 51.27.
A bear dwells amongst the trees, head filled with forest paths and hidden routes. It is content to eat corpses, saving itself the effort of the hunt. If discovered and not immediately attacked, it speaks in a gravelly, strained voice - offering to teach about these hidden paths. Such teachings take three days. Those with this knowledge cause surprise 4-in-6 of the time when travelling through wooded areas. It does not know when or how it learnt to speak.
In the shadowed quiet of the forest stalks a Wraith, their body distributed throughout - eaten by fungi and spread as spores. Spears of sunlight hem them in, yet they move during the day. No barrow contains them - all trees a tomb, the world a coffin.
Those it has slain congregate in a pond, lurking beneath the water to pull down any who stop and drink. There are 14 of these water-swelled dead (as Zombies).
A single cluster of wattle-and-daub buildings are surrounded by fields and paddocks. Seven fresh graves have been dug on the outskirts - 13 Bandits now dwell within the buildings. They all carry swords, four having shortbows and the rest javelins and shields. All but Adebugi (3HD) wear Leather - he wears Maille. He and two others ride warhorses, stolen from East Frankia years ago.
They await payment from the siblings who hired them - holding the estate hostage until 600sp crosses their palms.
The hills are heavy with corpses, bound to stakes and hung from trees. Many are human. More are animal. Tending their horrortrophies are 9 Centaurs with shortbows and bronze battleaxes. If they smell horses on the wind, they descend to capture their cousins and drag them away, only to be seen as desecrated corpses henceforth. Those unwilling to give up their mounts are shot at for days.
By ancient decree none may sleep within Olina who have no ties there. They wish only to collect their fee - 10sp a head, twice that for horses - and see travellers on their way. What occurs within the dense streets, compacted behind ancient stone walls, is unknown.
Venixiema (3†HD, Full Length Maille, Warhammer) tends the gate during the day, her face tattooed to appear scaled. This charm works, evoking a none-too-distant ancestor.
The day is coming when Olina opens her walls. The inhabitants are nearly ready.
3 footmen, 5 skirmishers, 15 Lizardfolk with spears.
† Supernatural HP
Buried in the riverbank, spotted only by those happening to pause along it, a strange implement. Made of cool blue marble with veins of mother-of-pearl, it is shaped something like a large C. Its spine is the length of an arm and at its centre is a bronze-ringed hole the width of three human hairs. Activating this Atlantean Lock requires either DNA from an Atlantean or one of their Keys.
When activated, a string of light appears between the tips of the C. Anything this string of light passes through is cut without heat nor friction. Whilst activated, the marble-material becomes plastic, able to be stretched, compressed and twisted.
If used as a weapon, the Atlantean Saw is extremely unwieldy. It ignores armour, dealing 3d6 damage. However, attack roll of 8 or less indicates the wielder being caught in the beam of light, rolling damage against themselves.
Away from people, an ageing warrior makes his peace with eternity. Senucaris (3HD, Warhammer) does not know how many he killed and is not interested in comparing wounds dealt or accrued. To any who stumble upon his abode, he teaches his technique of the Warhammer, throwing the entire body into the swing - the HD of the wielder added to the distance victims are thrown. He feigns senility to those who seek him out for such tuition. Such are his amusements.
Amongst the trees, four blue-lacquered figures stand, nude and unarmed. Each, beneath their coating, is made of metal and stone. They are filled with liquefied man and fight as Living Statues, bounding through the undergrowth, silent and grim. They permit none to approach 51.29. Those struck by these Guardians are treated as being struck by a Warhammer. They are blind, but sense vibrations, smells and sounds with incredible acuity.
They do not pursue those who flee.
From the earth emerges a pipe of blue-black stone. 5’ thick and 30’ in diameter, it plunges directly down into the blackness for 150’. Those descending find themselves in 1.
All rooms are unilluminated. The walls and floor are made of 1" squares of grey stone, polished to a low shine. The ceilings are arched sharply, the highest point 30’ above the floor - creating large pools of shadow. Unless noted otherwise, doors follow the same design - thick and heavy, made entirely of stone. Each has a raised nodule, imprinted with a large hand-print. Close examination reveals the fingers having an extra knuckle. Those placing their hands within the hand-print cause the door to open, sliding up into the ceiling. Destroying a door takes 6 Turns and summons all denizens of the facility. Sound carries weirdly - any loud sound triggering an encounter roll.
| d100 | Encounter |
|---|---|
| 1-20 | d4 Guardians (50.29) from 4 or 5. |
| 21-40 | Green Slime (3) |
| 41+ | No Encounter |
1
Leaves and loose twigs gather, forming a soft landing for those descending from above. To the north, east and west, heavy doors of metal depicting indistinct figures being consumed in horrible conflagrations, rended apart by beasts and crushed beneath great weights.
2
The southern half of this room is consumed with large, bulbous contraptions of stone and metal, humming with energies strange. The air reeks of ozone and blood - each Turn spent here causes 1 damage, the delicate blood vessels in the eyes and face bursting painlessly.
A dais near the machinery has only a single lever upon it, currently facing up. If pulled down, the machinery powers down, the room ringing with silence instead.
3
The southern half of this room is consumed with large, bulbous contraptions of stone and metal, humming with energies strange. The air reeks of ozone and blood - each Turn spent here causes 1 damage, the delicate blood vessels in the eyes and face bursting painlessly.
Lurking in the shadowed ceiling is an 8HD Green Slime, studded with borrowed sensory organs. It attempts to cut off the exit to this chamber, slithering along the ceiling slowly before falling upon the entrance. It’s protoplasmic bulk forms tendrils, tentacles and grasping arms as it tries to absorb intruders. If given a sacrifice, roll Reaction - a positive result indicating a possible taming.
A dais near the machinery has only a single lever upon it, currently facing up. If pulled down, the machinery powers down, the room ringing with silence instead.
4 & 5
The doors to these chambers feature no hand-imprint. Instead, a warty nodule of vegetable matter, tendrils snaking up to the ceiling, controls each. Within each chamber is 10 Guardians, static and unmoving unless dispatched or attacked.
6
Upon the northern wall, a creature, still sluggishly twitching and shifting, is chained to the wall with black-red oily metal. It is 10’ tall, with toadlike blue skin and an elongated skull. The face has huge eyes and a lipless mouth filled with small triangular teeth. In Aklashian, it speaks of the terrible prisoner contained here who must not be released, and of the crimes of Atlantis in helping a mad Lemurian ascend to godhood. Whilst bound in these chains, it will never die - released, it perishes immediately.
7
The western wall is hidden behind a huge, flat crystal which seemingly contains milky indistinct light, providing scant illumination. Set below it, a stone shelf with six finger-sized crystals and a socket of corresponding size. These smaller crystals contain a dull orange light. Placed within the socket, they cause moving images to appear on the flat crystal above, as if the viewer is somewhere else.
The first crystal provides views of a lake ringed by woods and mountains, the viewer standing within it yet extremely high up.
The second provides views of a large stone bowl, the viewer seemingly lurking within it.
The third produces views of ravaged hills, the viewpoint ever rushing forwards and undulating left-right. When doubling back upon itself, glimpses of a huge stone body can be seen.
The fourth produces almost no view 80% of the time - only deep blackness interrupted by tiny glows and lights vanishingly small against the dark. 10% of the time it rushes beneath the waves, following whales and sharks which flee before it, and a final 10% of the time a view from atop the waves.
The fifth shows hills carpeted in trees, the viewer towering above them and delicately picking between them with delicate needle-legs.
The sixth shows a devastated city surrounded by dense woodland, the viewer towering above the buildings and slowly picking their way through the streets.
The north-eastern door has no hand-imprint - it is closed unless 2 and 3 have been deactivated.
8
A pool of saltwater fills this chamber, 20’ deep and supplied with piping hidden at the bottom. Within the pool float 3 lilypad-like plants, each 6’ wide and covered in sensitive hairs. If the hairs are touched, the leaves wraps tightly and sinks to the bottom for 6 hours. Those within do not drown, the enclosure formed provided with oxygen.
9
A smell of old burning fills this chamber, heavily blackened by flame. Molten metals and glass have long cooled and formed solid puddles upon the floor.
The north-eastern door has no hand-imprint - it is closed unless 2 and 3 have been deactivated.
10
The heat damage is far worse here - the stone itself molten, forming weird smooth surfaces and ridges. To the north, a 4’ wide tunnel of shining clean metal continues as far as the eye can see.
b
This tunnel continues for 138 miles of featureless shining steel. The last 30 miles curve upwards to a 20° angle - eventually emerging from a mountainside in 51.06.
a
A section of wall does not exist to those who have cast at least 3 different spells - it can simply be walked through. Those who have not cast spells can pass through as well, but the illusion is perfect.
11
A pillar of rotating stone rings grind past one another, filling the chamber with their noise. From the walls just 2’ spikes of blue-green metal, heavily laden with Lemurian runes.
For each Juggernaut killed, one of the stone rings breaks, the rest speeding up in turn. They contain an inchoate god, unable to actualise whilst anchored and contained by the Juggernauts. It manifests only as a curling darkness containing all colours within itself, visible briefly when tendrils snake out between the grinding rings. If released, it destroys all traces of Lemuria and Atlantis from the Earth. Noos sinks beneath the waves. For completing such a task, the rescuers are given one single wish before the god departs for realms unimagined.
12
A spiral staircase leads from the entrance down towards the floor, filled with a sea coins and jewels and precious metals. Each sees something different - every item a glamour wrapped around a dust-sized particle. This enchantment creates false weight and heft - although there are limitations. Any attempting to jump into this pile of treasure instead fall through the hoard and take 3d6 damage as they hit the floor. Any surviving Guardians track those with any particles upon them relentlessly, seeking to kill them and keep the facility secret.
Ressona (1HD), burdened by her years, sells Cold-Stones painted as has been taught in her family for years. Each costs 30sp. When not selling the stones, she sleeps in her hut nearby. Within this hut are bones spanning generations, skulls facing inwards as if eager to offer opinions.
Shadowed trees cling close to Aseconia, the paths taken by the 100 residents indeterminable from animal trails. No walls hem the village in - reputation alone keeps them secure. Their Guardians are many and distributed - those slipping through this net are required to pay the Man Price. One body, dead or living, purchases the passage of four erstwhile companions. The dead are bound to menial service - the living added to the Belgic Wickerman in the centre of the village. It has a large clay eye set into the head.
Iccalus (4HD, Maille (of Bone), Sword, Shield, Javelin) leads Aseconia in earthly and spiritual matters, his bald head a network of scars. His head split open by a falling tree many years ago, divine light fills his eyes. All in Aseconia have turned from the worship of the Three, and now follow the edicts of Iccalus alone. He claims to speak for Fomorrh, and dreams of misted otherworlds haunted by one-eyed forms with voices like thunder. Fomorrh demands isolation and training for conquest when his chosen warriors come down the river for plunder. Iccalus bears a gold-rimmed horn which summons the Guardians from 40.31 and 41.31 - it takes them 4 hours to arrive.
As long as Iccalus lives and leads them in battle, the people of Aseconia do not test Morale. Without him they disperse, carrying the word of Fomorrh across the Marches - congregating at the shore and along the rivers.
20 footmen, 20 skirmishers plus 27 Skeletons (Shields, Spears) and 1 Belgic Wickerman.
3 Centaurs, bruised and beaten, recover near the river. They have been cast out from their band for killing their captured horses before bringing them to the others. They have been stripped of their weapons.
Smoke rises from Nemetobriga, her walls proud against the ever-flowering trees surrounding the settlement. 99 call it home and do so fondly. Their craftspeople produce the finest metalwork throughout the Marches, their hammers in time with the songs of praise sung throughout the settlement.
Magnus (3HD, Quarterstaff), an ex-Christian Norseman, tends to all matters in Nemetobriga on behalf of the Temple to the south. He has much patience with adventurers and mercenaries, although permits no blood to be split in his presence.
For donations in excess of 1500sp, the smiths of Nemetobriga can produce a named weapon of exceptional quality. Such weapons re-roll any 1s to hit but must be used in all future Boasts - the weapon an extension of the wielder.
20 armoured footmen.
In wooded hills nestles Iria, filled with stretched out game and small hungry dogs trained to never touch drying meat. 51 make their living from the forest and tending to travellers unwilling to push on to Loukobri.
Ambilo (2HD, Leather, Longbow, Polearm) has the trust of the community and a love for his brothers wife, Exobna (1HD, Knife).
Gnatia (1HD, Leather, Mace, Shield) wishes only to see inside Olina - the mystery has consumed her since childhood. To any willing to take her she pledges fealty.
14 skirmishers.
Beneath the exposed roots of a grand old oak are hidden passages dug with wrenched antlers. Those crawling into these tunnels find their minds filled with images of marauding bears. Those sleeping here come to identify with these images, imagining themselves as bears. Those sleeping here for a week without leaving may Polymorph into a 6HD bear once.
Amongst the trees, three blue-lacquered figures stand, nude and unarmed. Each, beneath their coating, is made of metal and stone. They are filled with liquefied man and fight as Living Statues, bounding through the undergrowth, silent and grim. They permit none to approach 51.29. Those struck by these Guardians are treated as being struck by a Warhammer. They are blind, but sense vibrations, smells and sounds with incredible acuity.
They do not pursue those who flee.
Beyond their perimeter, a cracked-open figure, the contents long evaporated or else crawled off to die in some forgotten burrow of the wood.
An emaciated form sat beneath a tree. Its possessions are long gone bar the Hundred Blessings(&T). The corpse is untouched by beast or insect.
In a field of wildflowers stands a Belgic Wickerman, the face bearing a large clay eye. The prisoners powering it have been blinded and their tongues put out. It permits none to approach Aseconia.
In rusting Maille stand 23 Skeletons, unmoved by wind or rain. The bone separating their eye-sockets has been chiselled out. 13 have swords, the other 10 spears. All have shields, unpainted, fresh-hewn from wood. They are set to guard Aseconia.
27 Gnolls in Leather make a smokeless camp. They speak Slavonic and some small fragments of Latin - enough to demand payment for violence. All have shortbows and battle-axes, walking as if used to the saddle. They eat the remains of a boar, sucking the stew through their masks noisily.
Their leader has decided to renege on their mission to destroy Aseconia, and the band is looking for work - or sport.
A badger burrow, long unoccupied, is filled with a darkness old enough to speak. Shining a light into the burrow kills it immediately. During the day it whispers quietly - at night, the volume increasing to speaking. It has seen many pass by here but has grown bored - it asks to creep into a living body. Such a host may cast Darkness 1/day, but the Dark speaks through them at night - burbling happily with teeth and lips and tongues so well suited to words. Any hirelings hearing this take a -2 to Morale.
An immense stone dome rises up here, the smoke from many fires leaking through the gaps. Beneath the dome the priests of Brigsheed in her three aspects of Flesh, Song and Steel perform the rites and rituals of their goddess. Pilgrims from across the marches are here - a cross-section of craftsmen, warriors and those injured here for aid.
Larma (4HD, Two-Handed Sword) is the High Priestess. She is short with outsiders. Those wishing for ‘Brigsheed’s smile’ - or any aid from the temple - must prove themselves. In snatches of song unuttered by any, Larma has heard of troubling developments in Aseconia to the west. Those discovering what occurs there are able to rest and heal in the temple, recovering at double the normal rates. Those cleansing Aseconia would become friends of the Temple - putting them in high regard with any in the Marches (+2 Reaction). She does not acknowledge the Gnolls hired to do this work, nor their failure. Those mentioning it are shunned and politely escorted from the Temple.
The Sisters of Brigsheed are dedicated to the steel of Brigsheed, singing a song of battle with their Two-Handed Swords, dressed in glittering Full Length Maille. Those joining are sworn to protect and serve the Temple alone, forgoing their previous lives and identities entirely. To Friends, they teach their technique of rhythmic strokes - rolling an extra attack every third round spent swinging. They have 3HD each.
The wealth of the temple is meagre - much is given away or in their efforts to heal and repair (Temple II):
60 Sisters of Brigsheed, 34 skirmishers.
A gang of magpies attempts to mug those travelling upriver - swarming them whilst the biggest attempt to steal shiny objects. Hidden in the deep woods, their hoard (Bandits I):
A crumbled statue some 12’ tall depicting a man with the head of a maned beast bearing its fangs to the East. The man wears a cloak - despite the weather wearing it down, close examination reveals the cloak is made of rats.
A pack of 9 wolves tries to coax a tenth out from the forest. The tenth likewise tries to encourage them to join it. It is much bigger, the coat sleeker.
Three domes of stacked slate make up the Temple of Ludeks, each dome named for one of his three heads. One for learning, one for forgetting and one for remembering. The domes of Learning and Remembering are ever-lit from within by slow-burning fires in brass braziers, the tablets and scrolls filling niches like the holes left by woodworms. This repository is tended to by the priests of Ludeks, many missing fingers as a sign of devotion.
A Belgic Wickermen sit before the entrance, filled with grim-faced volunteers.
Talis (2HD) watches all outsiders with intense suspicion - he suspects the thieves may revisit the temple. A sacred text, detailing the immanent words of Ludeks himself, was stolen and transported to places unknown. Those returning it are given total access to the archives - an unbroken history stretching back 800 years of resistance and self-sacrifice to all would-be conquerors and foreignborn kings.
If told of the fate of Glandomirum, the Priests can devise a chant which protects against and drives out the Words - sure to restore reason to the survivors, although it will not cover the memories of the slaughter perpetrated under its influence.
Those who would have betrayed The Marches are entombed within the Forgetting dome, bones left unburied to mix with the rest of their kind. 16 picked warriors (3HD) in Full Length Maille with Warhammers guard the entrance in shifts.
The wealth of the Temple is entirely in the records. Enough to fill a ships hold, it would be worth 25000sp to a scholar in a position to pay - although a willing translator would be challenging.
18 footmen, 12 skirmishers, 16 Picked Warriors.
Small, nimble horses, much used to wooded terrain, outnumber the 49 of Aediobri two to one. They ride, eat and milk these creatures, ranging through the forest with ease. Such beasts are not for sale to those from outside the Marches - under pain of death, as decreed by all three Temples.
Trouceteius (3HD, Leather, Longbow, Sword) has no interest in visitors, encouraging them to be on their way.
Corio (2HD) is willing to sell 10 Aediobri horses for 1000sp - and a trip out of The Marches. Any seen riding these creatures are attacked on sight and pursued by mercenaries hired by the Temples to recover the horses.
19 mounted skirmishers.
Picking through the leaf litter of the forest floor, a crow the size of a dog. It does not flee unless about to be attacked. Those giving it food are rewarded d6 days later, the crow dropping a strange hued stone seemingly containing a rainbow within it. Those holding this stone during a storm are struck by lightning, taking 4d6 damage.
A tower of wood peers over the treeline. Within are six Trolls, each unable to speak and wielding two-handed swords. Upon the brow of each a crime is inscribed in Belgic: two with kinslayer, a sheep-thief, a horse-thief, and a coward. Now they watch the borders that these crimes might be forgotten in time.
Between hills carpeted in trees roams Daanor, a Juggernaut. Six slender legs of stone puncture the earth, supporting a pair of spheres. From these legs jut thorns the size and sharpness of swords.
The larger sphere is heavy with trailing fur sprouting from between cracked stone plates carved with repeating geometric motifs, whilst the smaller is entirely encased bar nine sockets, set in a circle around the front of the sphere. From each a dull orange glow emerges.
A powerful bludgeoning weapon - or the use of chisels and spikes - could crack the rear armour, revealing wet yielding flesh which produces a clear serum when attacked. Equally, the eyes of Daanor are vulnerable to piercing weapons - although missile attacks only find their mark on a natural roll of 20.
Daanor’s legs are able to rotate fully, allowing it to flip over or scrape its back with these limbs - it is aware of its own weaknesses.
It does not leave this hex unless injured - those causing harm pursued til death.
From the soil, hidden by the undergrowth, a proliferation of bones carried here on sandalled feet and bid to rest forever between foreign roots and beneath soil alien to them. 892 died here. One searching could find a rusty steel sword in less than 10 minutes.
Rich in meat and furs, the 53 of Callaecia are given to celebrate all visitors as cousins, often throwing feasts and giving small gifts of meat and arrows. Some amongst them speak some Latin, Istvaeonic and Orleanis.
Alpus (1HD), a priest of Brigsheed, oversees the merriment and brews the mead so readily drunk.
13 skirmishers.
Coeliobriga sits quiet. Those within it have formed into two camps - as their headman, Andergos, laid dying, he spoke aloud the name of his successor as is so often done. Unfortunately, his sons have similar names - Donnotaurus (3HD, Maille, Sword, Shield) and Dubnotalus (2HD, Maille, Poleaxe).
Bloodshed is not out the question - the brothers both covet the throne and whip their followers up. One incident would be enough to trigger a miniature civil war, all 84 embroiled within it.
12 footmen, 10 skirmishers - in the case of civil war, each side has an addition 22 unarmoured warriors with spears.
Those moving quietly through the trees or down the river catch a fleeting glimpse of a pure-white horse with a horn drinking from the river. If chased, it moves 3 hexes in a random direction per day. There is a 1-in-6 chance per day the trail is lost, requiring d20 hours to rediscover - and experienced tracker having only a 1-in-20 chance.
Seurbris sits upon the river, filled with vessels from lands beyond the Marches. Many tongues mix and combine here amongst the 395 who call it home. Within the walls of stone is the only Christian church in The Marches, sharing a road with a Mosque.
Metela (3HD, Full Length Maille, Poleaxe) rules calculatingly, two husbands dead by her own hand. All travellers from the interior know she allows no insult nor misbehaviour in her river-port - those barred denied access to The Marches and the seas beyond entirely. She accepts visitors rarely - only those with something to say to the safety of Seurbris are ushered in. Time-wasters are drowned.
Justinianus (3HD, Byzantine Plate, Sword, Shield) stays with his brother, Georgios. Speaking only Greek but having a bevvy of translators, he seeks warriors to travel south and serve as part of the Farobian Guard amongst the dynastic chaos of the Empire. Those doing so are promised lives of excitement and luxury - although nominal conversion to Christianity is required. Georgios, a master armourer, makes Byzantine Plate for 2500sp a suit. It takes 1 week per suit.
Nizsm (1HD) seeks a band to give him a tour of these northern climes. He speaks Egyptian, Arabic, Greek and Latin, but is keen to learn more. For each city and town visited, he pays 100sp, and 25sp per village. He is happy to stay quartered during dangerous expeditions, although if kept safe he thrills in watching the danger. His long-suffering bodyguard, Hossam (3HD, Maille, Two-Handed Sword, Longbow) says little, but never fails Morale checks when Nizsm’s life is in the balance.
20 footmen, 20 armoured footmen, 10 skirmishers plus 1 Karvi-equivalent.